Spinning A Yarn
by NazgulQueen13
Summary: Due to a lie, clever Ginger is forced by the king to spin straw into gold. Helped by a mysterious stranger, she eludes the king’s order and stays alive. But soon Ginger is a prisoner in a war where she'll need more than her quick wits to stay alive.
1. Ginger's Dilemma

Spinning A Yarn

Chapter One

At first glance, a daughter of a miller can appear to be a very plain figure. She has little money, a humble home, and a rather predictable future. There has never been a miller's daughter who rose any higher than the station to which she was born… until Ginger, that is. And as they say, there's a first for everything.

Once upon a time, Ginger was born on a breezy day in autumn in the midwife's home, right in the heart of the village. Her mother held her for a brief moment before dying from the turmoil of childbirth. Her father, the miller, took his daughter from his dead wife's arms and, torn between his grief and his joy, called her Ginger for the few wisps of coppery-red hair on her head.

Ginger grew up in their small cottage rather happily, never caring that she had to sew her own dresses or go without lunch some days. With her mother's silver locket around her neck, her copper-colored hair gleamed cheerily in the sun, and her smile was enough to charm even the grumpiest villager. But at the age of twenty, Ginger did not possess the womanly curves found on most women her age; instead, she had a thin and malnourished look that even her sparkling smile could not hide.

While her disposition seemed happy and carefree on sight, Ginger was truly a clever and cunning girl, who knew how to use her charms to win sympathy, which often led to a free meal or a new dress. When she was eighteen, without having even a thimble's worth of knowledge about looms or spindles, she had artfully won over the local spinner, and secured herself a job spinning yarn a few days a week. Now two years later, the spinner let her sell the yarn at the local market and keep nearly three-quarters of the profit, which both pleased and dismayed her poor father.

The miller had been encouraging Ginger to marry for some time, as he was growing old and his mill was decreasing in value, a fact that had caught the millers' guild's eye. The miller knew it would not be long before his mill was shut down entirely, and he wanted Ginger safely married and settled. The fact that she earned a wage and sold her own yarn was not proper, and it troubled him to know that many a man would be put off by this. But Ginger seemed in no way inclined to get married, and so the miller was forced to try and entreat the guild to keep his mill running for just a little while longer.

One day in the middle of spring, a letter arrived for the miller from the guild. It told him that they had a task for him to do, and if he did it successfully, they would ensure that his mill would keep running at least until winter. The task was to go to the king and ask him to lift the shipping tax on flour, as it was lowering the productivity and quality of the kingdom's mills. The miller gladly accepted, and began to pack for the three-day journey to the palace.

"Father," Ginger said when he told her the news, "are you sure the king will listen to you? I don't trust him."

Her father gasped. "Ginger, do not speak such treason. He's your ruler."

Ginger snorted. "And a bad one at that. He's taxed everything in sight! Papa, you do know that if you don't succeed in getting him to lift this tax, they will shut down your mill?"

The miller sighed. "I know, Ginger, and I've been thinking. I'll just have to be like you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll win him over, impress him with my wit, but earn his sympathy. It always works for you," he said.

"Yes, but I'm a woman, it's different." She paused. "Don't go, Papa."

Her father closed his eyes for a moment, and then spoke. "I have to. If I don't go at all, they will certainly shut down my mill. I've got to at least try, Ginger."

It suddenly struck Ginger how old and tired her father looked. She secretly thought it would be better for him if they did shut down his mill, but she knew he would never be able to bear the shame. She sighed heavily.

"Well, remember to tell him that you have a child at home, who is hungry and needs new clothing. If that doesn't work, nothing will," she offered.

He smiled sadly. "You are so much like your mother."

Ginger smiled eagerly. "How so?"

"You always give advice, even when there is no hope."

She shook her head. "There's hope, Papa."

He smiled, and kissed her on the forehead. "Thank you. I'll be home in a week."

She nodded, and watched him leave the cottage, tie his satchel to their horse, and then trot away into the distance. A feeling of dread and anxiety filled her as she tore her eyes from the road and looked around their small cottage. The king, from all she had heard, was duplicitous and indifferent toward his peasants. Her father's mill was doomed.

* * *

The miller made the journey to the palace without incident, and took a room in an inn to rest before his meeting with the king. He was nervous, yet hopeful. He had mostly resigned himself to the fact that Ginger, bless her heart, would not marry until she wanted to do so. There was nothing he could do to change that. He had always been too soft with her, he realized. But growing up without her mother was harder on him than she would ever know. Every time he saw that smile, he thought of his beloved Rose… but what's done is done, he said to himself. He had to convince the king to lift the tax, because keeping up his mill was simply essential. As he laid his head down to sleep, he told himself that he would do whatever it would take to impress the king.

The sun rose so cheerily the next morning that the miller felt entirely capable. He imagined what it would be like to come home in the throes of success, to be congratulated, and to prove the guild wrong. What a wonderful feeling that would be! He whistled as he walked the short distance to the palace, feeling the most confident he'd ever felt in his life.

Upon arriving, he was told to wait in the hall outside the king's study, along with many other weary and angry subjects come to speak with the king. One by one they were taken into the study, and after a few minutes, they would emerge, angrier than before and cursing the king under their breath. His confidence waning just a little, a worried knot grew in the miller's stomach, and he began to dread the moment his name was called.

"Representative of the miller's guild," a bored guard called out. The miller jumped up, and forcing himself to regain his confidence, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to be guided into the study.

Not pausing to gawk at the beautiful room, he sunk into a bow in front of the king's elegant desk. "Your Majesty, permission to speak on behalf of the Guild of the Millers of Aurelia, sire."

"Permission granted," the king's uninterested voice said.

The miller rose and took a step forward, speaking to the back of the king's head, who was apathetically looking for something on a bookshelf.

"As you are certainly aware, your majesty, the mills of this country need every cent they can obtain, and although our business is prospering, the millers do not receive a substantial amount of the profit," the miller said in a steady voice.

"Your point, sir?" the king said, his voice short and irritated.

"My… my point, sire, is that if there continues to be a tax to ship flour, then the millers will certainly go out of business, the kingdom's supply of flour will plummet, and the funds the country gains from exporting flour will be lost. We only ask for a promise that you will lift the tax, your majesty, with every due respect."

There was a short silence, as the king turned around and sat down. The miller waited with bated breath, watching the king think. The king was a tall, strongly built man, in his early 40s, with distinguished peppery hair and a chiseled face. His was a sternly handsome face, and he did not look kind; he instead invoked a sense of fear and unease. He leaned back in his chair, his hands pressed together, stroking his chin.

"You are the miller from Tivilla, no?" the king finally said.

"Yes, your majesty," the miller nervously replied.

"And is your mill not the least profitable in the whole country?"

"Well, yes, your majesty, but the weather-"

"Then you are of no service to me. Take him away," the king said brusquely.

The guards left their places and advanced toward the poor miller, but he was not going to give up that easily. He racked his brain.

"Wait, your majesty! I can be of great service to you!" he cried.

The king held up his hand and the guards paused. "Really?" the king said with a smile. "Pray, tell me how you could possibly be a benefit to this kingdom?"

The miller thought hard. He knew now that he could not possibly earn the king's sympathy, so he had to think of some incentive the king would respond to. He thought of his daughter at her spinning wheel. What would Ginger do?, the miller thought, but then suddenly, something else popped into his mind. Ginger… that was it!

"My daughter can spin straw into gold, your majesty!" the miller cried desperately.

The king, who had been smiling nastily at the miller's dilemma, suddenly looked very interested.

"What did you say?" he asked, rising out of his chair.

Trying not to think of the consequences of this blatant lie, the miller repeated, "My daughter, your majesty; she can spin straw into gold."

The king smiled again, a scheming grin. He walked around his desk and placed an arm about the miller's shoulders.

"How fascinating," he said. "I'm very intrigued… I would love to have her come to the palace and demonstrate this ability of hers." He paused. "I'll make a deal with you, miller. If you bring your daughter to my palace within the next ten days, I will promise to lift the tax and never establish one on shipping flour again. What say you?"

The miller, so close to his goal, was thrilled that he had been triumphant, and without thinking, said, "Yes, your majesty."

"Excellent. I will see her within ten days… if she's not here, the deal is off, miller."

The miller nodded, grinning happily, and bowed once again. He left the king's study, and merrily resumed his whistling as he walked out of the palace. Once on the road to the inn, he did a little jig. He had done it! He had gotten the king's promise! He could just imagine the guild members' shocked faces as he announced the news. And his mill would remain open! He could continue supporting Ginger!

But then his exhilaration came to a screeching halt. Ginger… the promise _he_ had made to the king resounded in his ears. How could he have done such a thing? He'd promised away his own child… and for naught but a tax. His chest began heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes; he was a terrible father. How could he have lied so awfully to the king, to put his daughter in such a position?

His happiness utterly gone, he packed his things and miserably got on his horse. His only hope was that somehow his clever daughter would find a way out of this.

* * *

Ginger nervously paced the cottage, anticipating her father's return. She had been planning what she was going to say, to ease his disappointment. She knew sympathy couldn't have possibly worked on the hard-hearted king, and instinctively knew her father had failed.

Sure enough, around midday, she saw her father trotting up the road, his head hung low. She hurried out of the cottage as he came to a stop by their rickety stable.

"Oh, Father," she began as she helped him with his things, "it'll be alright. I've saved enough to buy some seeds, we can grow our own food. And you know I can make clothes and blankets with my yarn, we'll be fine."

The miller sighed heavily and looked at his daughter. Something in his face troubled Ginger, and she halted her comfort speech to look at him quizzically.

"Father, what's wrong?" she asked suspiciously.

The miller seemed to brace himself, and beckoned Ginger to follow him inside. They walked into the cottage and Ginger sat down at their wooden table. After pouring himself some water, the miller joined her.

"Ginger, I… I got the king to not levy the tax," he finally said.

Ginger gasped. "Papa, how wonderful! How did you do it? Did you tell him about the child at home? I told you that always works."

The miller shook his head. "No, Ginger. I felt I had to impress him, not earn his pity. So I told him… I told him…"

"Told him what?"

There was a long, terrible silence.

"I told him you could spin straw into gold."

Ginger sat still for a moment, shocked. "What?" she finally asked stupidly.

"I know, it was foolish, but it was first thing that came to my mind, so I said it, and now…" he trailed off, not wanting to tell her.

"Now what?" she said quickly. "_What_, Father?"

"Now he wants you to come to his palace and spin gold for him."

Ginger's heart stopped for a second. Her mind was reeling from what her father was saying.

"Father… how could you? I can't spin straw into gold!" she cried.

"I know, but Ginger, you don't have to go! He'll just shut down my mill and levy the tax, it doesn't matter!" the miller implored her.

But Ginger was not so naïve as her father, and stood up in anger. "Papa, first of all, I can't let him do that to you or the other millers. And second of all, now that you've told him, he'll still want me, you know how greedy he is!"

The miller looked panicked. "Run away, Ginger. Just run away, I'll deal with him."

"I cannot do that either," Ginger said, standing at their small window. "He's the best hunter on the continent, he'd find me in a week," she said, her voice heavy. "I have to just go, and see what comes."

"No, Ginger, I forbid it. He'll have your head!"

But Ginger turned and smiled at her poor father. "Not if I can help it."

* * *

On the eve of her departure, Ginger was nervous for the first time in her life. She had packed her small amount of things, had bidden the spinner goodbye, and was trying to eat the stew her father had cooked for her. The miller was gone at the guild's meeting, informing them of his success, leaving Ginger to eat alone with her thoughts.

The king was greedy; he could get whatever he wanted. But Ginger was determined to win him over, no matter what. She was young, and she wanted to find out for herself if she could still do something with her life. He was cunning, but so was she. Through her anxiety, she almost felt excited at the challenge laid out before her. In fact, the more she thought on it, the more resolute she became, and she ate her stew with a fresh enthusiasm.

Ginger went to sleep before her father returned home, and slept as soundly on her last night in the cottage as she'd ever had. The dawn broke clear and promising, and Ginger heard her father rustling in the kitchen as she got out of her bed for the last time.

"Good morning, Father," she said with a smile as she sat down at the table.

Her father seemed to be moving very slowly and heavily, especially as he poured her some juice. She instantly recognized the guilt in his eyes, and his remorse weighed down on his shoulders. She sighed.

"Papa, I'll be fine," she assured him. "I may not be able to spin straw into gold, but I _will_ be able to charm him. You know I can."

"Don't get into worse trouble, Ginger," the miller said worriedly.

She laughed. "I won't, Papa, I promise." She ate the breakfast her father set down in front of her, wanting to ease his worries but knowing the only way to do so was to say she wouldn't go. But now that an adventure was so close, she wasn't about to give it up. What other village girl could say she was going to the palace to butt heads with the king? Ginger wouldn't miss it for the world.

She finished her breakfast and went to change into her riding clothes. Once she was sure she had everything she wanted, and her mother's locket was safe around her neck, she left her small room and went outside, where her father was waiting by the horse.

"Here, my daughter, I want you to have this," he said after she'd secured her satchel. Ginger looked at the palm of his hand, in which lay a shining gold ring. She gasped as he took her hand and slid it onto her finger.

"Papa, what… where did you get this?" she finally said.

"It was your grandmother's," he said.

She sighed and shook her head. The one thing that had been lurking in her mind finally came out. "Papa… what if I can't make him forget I can't spin gold? Then you'll need this, to keep the mill open."

He shook his head more forcefully. "No, Ginger. It doesn't matter if they shut down the mill, as long as you come home safe. And besides," he went on, taking her chin in his hand, "there's no one you can't win over."

She chuckled and nodded. She then hugged her father very tightly, tears pricking behind her eyes.

"I'll be home again, you'll see," she said, giving him a kiss.

He nodded, unable to hold back his tears. She mounted her horse, and with one last smile, she rode toward the palace.


	2. Ginger and the City

A/N – Thanks for the reviews! School (aka hell) has been… well, hell. It's nuts – senior year is crazy! Ah! But anyway, here's a new – and long – chapter! What will Ginger do? Let's find out!

Oh and by the way, I'm trying to move the story away from being set in the clichéd "medieval" kingdom, which (hopefully) you'll see with this chapter. For one thing, there's plumbing! Woo! Think Renaissance meets 19th century.

Shout-outs:

**naughty**** little munchkin:** Yeah, I guess I, being the all-powerful and omnipotent author, thought that in the grand scheme of things, that first chapter didn't seem like much. Thanks, and I hope uni (that's so cool! I wish I wasn't American – we're no fun) isn't too much work so you can update _your _stories! YAY!

**Tally:** I'm so sorry! I _am_ working on the next chapter of Lya, but it's just taking forever. If you ever have a hankering to edit, send me an e-mail!

Shameless plug!: WHITE ROSE HAS BEEN REVISED! It's, in my opinion, a lot better than the first draft, which was great but not as great as it could've been. So check it out – the story didn't change, but it's much meatier. (mmm meat)

Chapter 2

On the road to the palace, Ginger did everything to keep her spirits and her hopes high. She whistled as she thought of how to sway the king, but she couldn't cement any plans yet. She would have to meet him first and see what he was truly like.

As the sun set on the third day, and she neared the same inn where her father had stayed, her excitement began to clash with her anxiety. The king had said she was to be there ten days from when her father had left; it had now been eight. She paused by the inn, wondering whether or not she should surprise him by showing up at dusk on the eighth day. But then she looked down at her dress, which was dirty and mussed, and ran a hand through her hair, which was tangled and a mess. She chuckled; no, she was definitely not going to meet the king looking like such a wreck. So she left her horse with a stable boy and brought her things into the inn.

The next morning, Ginger awoke just as the dawn was breaking. She stood and stretched, her confidence rising with the sun. She hopped into the bath, whistling, trying not to think too hard about her plans. She changed into her best dress, and her hair dried wavy and lustrous; just perfect. She packed her things, ate some breakfast, paid the innkeeper, and then eagerly left for the city.

Ginger walked alongside her horse down the road to the palace. She hadn't really thought of how long the king may want her to stay… or what he would want her to do. Would he want her to sit in front of the entire court and spin gold? Or lock her in a tower and order her to spin loads and loads of straw? She pondered his plans and started to devise ways to counter them.

The narrow dirt road rose up a hill, and at the very top Ginger could finally see the palace and city. They lay together in a valley, flanked by two snow-capped mountains that no one ever dared to go near. The mountains were the kingdom's border, and past them was the kingdom of Parfalia, a country that the kingdom did not get along with very well. The city of Ende surrounded the palace, a tight, crowded city that was the home of thousands of citizens. The palace was built nearly onto the side of the eastern mountain, a glittering white marble building that could probably house the city folk far more comfortably than the city itself. Ginger sighed and began to walk the few leagues to the city border, passing through the last open farmland for miles and miles.

She was stopped at the city border, a thick stone wall that made its way all around the city to the mountains. She was asked to state her business and show her citizenship papers, which she didn't have.

"But sir," she said desperately to the guard, her eyes moist, "it's very important that I get into the city. My father is dying," she said with a fake sob. "I left so quickly to get medicine that I forgot my papers. Please, sir."

The guard sighed and tried to comfort her. "It's alright, miss. You may pass."

"Oh, thank you, sir, thank you," she effused. She hurried through the gate with her horse and pretended to rush down a street until she was out of the guard's eye. She slowed down and smiled; an excellent warm-up. She paused for a moment and looked around; people were rushing by her, throwing her annoyed looks as she stood still in the middle of a narrow cobblestone alley. Rows of homes stretched along the street, some with laundry hanging out the window or pies cooling on the window sill. Ginger began to walk toward the palace, still staring around in wonder. She had never been to the city before. Indeed, she had never left her county, which was naught but farms and mills. The people in the city moved faster and always seemed to be in a hurry. Carriages rattled down the roads, scattering people to the sides. Shops were busy with customers, and every so often an open square was occupied by a market. It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, but men were scurrying to work and women were rushing children to school. Ginger stopped to gawk; she had never gone to a proper school, but instead had been taught for a few years by a local woman who had once been a governess for a wealthy family. Ginger suddenly sharply felt the difference between the city people and herself. They were clearly much wealthier, and they weren't even the wealthiest in the kingdom. But she had bigger things to worry about, and so she shrugged and hurried along, eager to get to the palace.

She finally arrived at the wrought iron gates, where another guard asked her to state her business with the king.

"I received a summons," she answered.

"Your name?" the guard asked, pulling out a leaf of paper.

"Ginger, from Tivilla. The miller's daughter?" she said, wondering just what her father had told the king.

"Ah, of course," the guard said, not even bothering to check the paper. "Go through the front hall and tell the guards you're here. He'll want to see you in private."

Ginger's stomach clenched against her will, but she nodded and thanked him. The gates opened, and Ginger escaped the stuffy, congested street and walked up the stone path toward the doors. The path was lined with gorgeous gardens, and Ginger wondered for the millionth time just what sort of man the king was like. A servant came to take her horse and satchel, assuring her it would reach a safe place. She walked up the steps to the front doors, which were easily thirty feet tall and made of white marble. The two guards nodded to her and then pushed open the doors, which, to Ginger, seemed like no small feat.

Almost all thoughts of the king flew away as Ginger stepped into the majestic front hall. Arching her neck, she gaped at the high ceiling, which was painted with heavenly scenes and from which hung a sparkling chandelier. On the walls hung paintings of past and present monarchs, and the floor itself was edged in gold. A grand staircase sprawled out in front of her, and to either side she could see carpeted hallways leading to even more glorious rooms. But her amazement was cut short when two more guards, standing at the staircase, came forward and asked her name.

"Ginger, the miller's daughter," she said, following the previous guard's instruction. The two nodded to each other.

"Follow us, miss," one said. She nodded and reluctantly followed them out of the hall, going down a hallway to the right. Passing by doors that were just begging to be opened, Ginger was getting antsy to forget the king and explore the palace. But the corridor finally opened into the throne room, and Ginger was awestruck once again. The blue-tiled floor matched the sky outside, which could be seen through the giant window that served as the southern wall. The throne sat high on a dais in front of the window, the sun creating a sort of halo around the seat. Statues lined the other walls, depicting kings and queens since the birth of the kingdom. Brightly colored tapestries hung on the walls, bouncing light off of golden candelabras that were fixed to the walls.

The guards snapped their fingers, and two more guards that stood at the bottom of the dais sprang to life and walked forward. They all saluted, and then the two new ones inclined their heads to Ginger. Ginger, although not expecting such a courteous welcome, was warming up to it rather quickly.

"Miss, the king will be with you shortly," one of them said, and then gestured to indicate that she could look about the room. She smiled and thanked them, as the first two returned to the hall and the other two returned to the dais. Ginger happily walked around the room, inspecting the statues, examining the tapestries, and then walking behind the throne to look out the mammoth window. The window faced out onto the palace's limited but magnificent open space, filled with gardens and some open field. Beyond that lay the city, and beyond the city lay the dark forest that filled the gap between the two mountains.

"Do you like it?"

Surprised, Ginger hopped around to see the king. She instantly smiled and delved into a curtsy.

"Very much, your majesty," she said, rising. She looked him over quickly; he was probably twenty years her senior, his hair streaked with distinguished gray. But other than his hair, he looked very strong and youthful. His face wasn't all that handsome, but his eyes were clever and intelligent. His chiseled features regarded Ginger with a sly interest, and he smiled.

"Ginger, I've been looking forward to meeting you. You're father told me much about you," he said, and she noticed the deceptive kindness in his voice. "I hope traveling here wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all, your majesty. I was happy to come," she said smoothly.

He smiled again. "Please, let us sit," he said, offering her his arm. She smiled and took it, allowing him to guide her to two chairs set up at the base of the dais. She sat down as he gestured the two guards away. He then sat down as well, first removing his belt, from which hung his sword. He wore velvet black britches, with only a white shirt and vest on top. He noticed her eyeing his wardrobe.

"I apologize for not looking more kingly," he said with a chuckle. "I went hunting this morning."

"You must get up early, your majesty," she noted. "They say the most intelligent people awake at dawn," she continued, knowing flattery would work well.

He laughed. "When I was young, my father always woke me at dawn. It is a habit."

She smiled.

"I'm sorry for making you leave home," he said; Ginger smiled again at the blatant lie.

"It was nothing. I've always wanted to see the city."

"Your father was an excellent negotiator. But when he happened to mention your fascinating ability, I just had to see it for myself."

"Of course, your majesty."

"I'd like you to stay in the palace for awhile. I've been hoping to revive the textiles industry for quite some time, and you might be just the trick."

She nearly laughed, but settled on a grateful smile. "Well, thank you, your majesty."

He nodded, his eyes not quite matching his smile. He stood and indicated that she should, as well.

"I'd like to show you something," he said. "Follow me."

He began to walk toward what looked like solid wall. Ginger followed, happy to have made such a good impression on the devious king. He stopped near a statue of his own father, and squeezed its hand. Suspicious, Ginger watched closely, but the wall suddenly shuddered, and a door appeared, opening to reveal another hall. Two more guards stood along the wall, but saluted as the king appeared, who gestured that they should follow. Ginger trotted a little behind the king, wondering whether her flattery had been enough to secure the safety of telling him the truth. Somehow, she doubted it. She would just have to think of something to prolong the time until she would have to "demonstrate" her ability.

The corridor ended at two wooden doors. The king snapped his fingers, and one of the guards quickly handed him a ring of keys. Carefully selecting one, the king placed the key in the right door and opened it. Ginger stepped inside a lovely bedchamber, with a large canopy bed and bay window.

"Your room, while you stay here," the king said.

"Thank you, your majesty," she said, examining the washroom and closet. But next to the wardrobe was another door, and Ginger raised an eyebrow.

"What is this?" she asked.

The king smiled subtly. "I'll show you." He took another key and fitted it to the door. It opened, and Ginger's jaw fell. The door had opened into another room, the same size as her bedchamber. Except it was filled with straw. Piles and piles of straw. In the middle sat a spinning wheel and stool, but it was surrounded by mounds of straw. The look in the king's eyes suddenly turned greedy and triumphant.

"Tonight I want you to spin all this straw into gold by morning," he said as Ginger walked around the room.

This was it, she decided. She quickly hid her apprehension and turned to the king.

"I'd like two days, if you don't mind, your majesty," she said boldly.

The king looked startled. "Two days?"

She nodded. "I suppose my father told you I like to spin at night, but I don't spin _all_ night, your majesty. I need rest so that I can concentrate. And with this much straw, I'll really need to rest. Otherwise it comes out rather dull, and I'm sure you don't want that."

The king locked his jaw. Ginger knew he was too greedy to just have her head for talking back; he wanted that gold.

"What if you work during the day?" he offered, his voice acquiring an edge.

She shook her head. "The sun is too bright, I can't see the gold as well, your majesty."

"Then begin at dusk," he said.

She smiled; this wasn't bargaining. This was war.

"I'm sorry, your majesty, but it must be dark. I've only ever spun gold in the dark. I've never been able to before nightfall."

The king finally gave in. Ginger had won.

"Fine. Two nights to spin this entire room. But it must be done. That's an order," he said as forcefully as he could.

She nodded. "Of course, your majesty," she said sweetly, curtsying.

He began to walk away.

"Wait, your majesty!" she called, leaving the straw room.

"Yes?" he asked shortly.

"What shall I do during the day?" she asked.

He looked her up and down. "I'll have someone give you some proper clothing," he said, all pretend kindness gone. "Then you may go to court or the city." He paused. "But at night, you will be locked into this room, understand?"

"Yes, your majesty."

He then left the room with his guards, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, Ginger jumped happily and sprung onto the bed. Sure, she hadn't exactly _won_ yet, but she had bought herself time. She wasn't foolish enough to think she could escape; by now, the king must have told every guard in the city to watch her carefully. But she had two days to think of a plan, and for Ginger, that was plenty of time.

* * *

A few minutes later, after Ginger had unpacked her things, three ladies came into the room, each carrying a pile of dresses. Ginger's jaw fell; the dresses were made of satin, silk, organza, and other fabrics that Ginger had never even felt before. The ladies left the dresses on her bed and promptly left without a word. Ginger picked up one of the dresses and giddily twirled it around. She hurried into the washroom, eager to take a bath and try on her new gowns.

But she took her time in the elegant bathroom, for she had never seen such a room. Her new surroundings perplexed her; she never knew that people put such care and attention into something so trivial as their bathroom. But she liked it, the soft, calming cream walls, the copper faucets on the sink and bathtub, the velvety towels. She turned on the hot water and playfully added some scented oils, taking advantage of all the wealth around her.

After her bath, she happily tried on the gowns, loving each one more than the one before. Finally keeping on a blue, calf length dress with a sash, she took her small change purse and left the room. Being sure to remember where it was, she walked down the hall to the throne room, which, to her surprise, was full to the brim with peasants not unlike herself. Lines of them filled the hall, where they stood apparently waiting to tell a guard their business, who would then either direct them to the king, or send them to the door. Ginger wondered whether it had been like this when her father had come to see the king, who was sitting on his throne high above them all. He suddenly saw her, and looking worried, beckoned for her to come to the throne. She picked her way through the myriad of lines, and hurried up the dais.

"Yes, your majesty?" she asked, curtsying.

"Where are you going this afternoon?" he asked.

"I thought I'd look around the city, your majesty," she answered.

He nodded. "Come to dinner at five, and then you are to be in your room."

"Yes, your majesty. And thank you for the clothes, sire," she said graciously.

He nodded, but then turned his attention elsewhere. Ginger hastened back down the stairs, and then left the hall for the hallway to the grand entrance. Stepping outside the front doors, she paused on the veranda to shade her eyes against the sun and look out on the city. It had calmed down since the morning – it was now midday – but people still walked the streets, going about their routines.

Ginger went down the steps to the gate, which was opened for her as she stepped out onto the cobblestone street. A carriage suddenly whizzed by, causing her to leap back and a guard to chuckle.

"Watch out," he said. "Those carriages are dangerous."

She smiled shakily and tried again. She left the gates and walked to the left, where she could either walk down a small hill or make a turn. She turned, and found herself on a street lined with shops of all sorts. Feeling slightly overwhelmed but completely adventurous, Ginger went in and out of nearly every shop, never buying anything (the prices were rather excessive, in her opinion) but looking at dresses, hats, jewelry, furniture, anything she could think of. On the street, she passed women followed by servants carrying dozens of shopping bags. Nearly everyone she saw was well-dressed and chic, coming in and out of their town houses or leather-lined carriages. She felt innately out of place, even in her fine dress, but peculiarly, she didn't feel homesick. Of course she missed her father; she thought of him as she passed a bakery. But the city was exciting, and so much more sophisticated and advanced than the villages in her county.

Ginger was pondering this when she stumbled across the kingdom's only university, where they taught art, literature, music, science… all sorts of things. Ginger stopped by the entrance longingly, suddenly feeling very jealous and wondering what it was like to have the opportunity to go there. She had to be just as intelligent as any of these students, right?

She stood outside the gated group of buildings, longing to go in. She looked at the clock on the side of a building; it only said three o'clock. She had two hours before she was supposed to be back for dinner. Deciding just to look around, she pushed open the unlocked gates and walked in.

The university was a small estate of about four buildings and areas with trees and grass, where some students sat on benches or on the lawns reading and writing. Ginger walked to a charming brick building with ivy growing up its sides. She walked up the small stairs leading to the black door, and trying to appear natural, walked in.

She had stepped into a carpeted hallway lined with doors. Along the walls were paintings of deans and monarchs, and Ginger could hear lively classes taking place inside the rooms. At the end of the hall was a spiral staircase, and Ginger walked up to the next floor, which looked exactly the same as the first. Except halfway down this hall was a group of students, apparently waiting for a class to begin. Ginger excitedly walked up to them and tried to blend in, catching snippets of their conversation. To her disappointment, however, the class was ending instead of beginning, and the students began to drift away in groups. As she continued down the hall, though, her excitement returned. A door stood open at the last classroom in the corridor, and it led into a large lecture hall. Ginger slipped in unnoticed and sat in the back.

A male professor, wearing black britches, a shirt, and an open vest, was debating with a student, and after a moment Ginger caught on that it was about the king and his policies on – what else – mills.

"Do you agree, sir, that flour is a vital export for this kingdom?" the professor was saying.

"Yes, but there are too many mills, which will eventually cause inflation."

"Yes, but at the moment, one mill is producing not nearly half as much as it should. On the contrary, it's going to cause the prices of flour to plummet," Ginger suddenly found herself saying.

Everyone in the class turned to look at her. She blushed, but didn't shirk. The professor smiled.

"Well said. And very true. What the king has been hiding is that mills aren't producing what's needed to even supply this kingdom, let alone export it."

Ginger's jaw dropped again. She could just hear her father screaming "treason!" in her head. She was amazed that no one else seemed to care in the slightest that the professor was frankly calling the king a liar. Like a slap in the face, she again felt enormously overwhelmed, and although part of her longed to stay, she had to go somewhere and clear her head.

She left the university and walked back to the castle, where the guards recognized her and let her in without questions. Not knowing any other way to her room, she walked back through the crowded throne room and pressed the statue's hand, just like the king had. Sure enough, the wall sprang back and she hurried down the corridor to her room.

Falling back onto her bed, Ginger felt dizzy from her brand new surroundings. It was such a radical change that she wasn't sure what to think quite yet. On one hand, she missed the simplicity and plainness of her cottage and village. But the city was amazing, and Ginger felt more alive here than she'd ever felt back at home. It was just so much to take in at one time…

After resting awhile, Ginger was startled to hear the clock strike quarter to five. She leapt from the bed and hurriedly changed into a finer gown and left the room, hoping to find a guard who could direct her to the dining hall. When she found the hallway empty, she walked to the throne room, which was also empty except for two guards by the door. She rushed over to them.

"Pardon me, but where is the dining hall?" she asked.

"Go into the entrance hall, go up the stairs and make a right," one answered.

She thanked them, and then scurried to the entrance hall and dashed up the stairs. She approached the hall at five to five; just on time. The dining hall looked much different than the rest of the castle; everything seemed to be made of dark wood. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, the mantelpieces were ornately carved out of oak, and the table itself was made of a deep mahogany. The room was filled with courtiers, none of whom took any notice of Ginger. She didn't mind. She was enjoying just examining the room, when the trumpets sounded and the king came in. Everyone immediately went to the table, obviously already knowing their seat. Ginger panicked and tried to move quickly to find the only empty seat, which was all the way at the other end of the table from the king.

Ginger was ignored throughout the elaborate meal, and she took the opportunity to listen to the courtiers' conversations, most of which were mere gossip. She ate quietly, and when everyone stood after dessert and went about their rounds, Ginger was approached by two guards.

"Miss, the king requests that you retire to your room," one said politely.

Ginger looked out the window and saw that it was, indeed, nightfall. She nodded and followed them to her room. Once inside, however, they closed the door behind her and she heard it lock.

And so Ginger began her first night as the king's prisoner.


	3. Ginger and the Strangers

Chapter 3

Ginger leaned against the locked door for a moment, her stomach suddenly turned to stone. Although she had bought herself more time, eventually that time would run out – and she'd have no excuse. She knew she could never tell the king the truth – it was too laughable a thing – and besides, it would only get both her and her father in trouble. She instinctively rubbed her neck; she knew the king liked to chop the heads of traitors and liars. And no flipping of her lustrous hair or flashing of her charming smile would save her from the block.

The sun had set and a half moon rose, surrounded by sparkling stars in the navy blue sky. She crossed to the window, thinking of her father. She was suddenly furiously angry with him; this was, after all, his fault. _Any lie would have been better than this_, she thought. She slammed the window shut and yanked the curtains closed. She felt a vicious pleasure in blaming her father… he was the reason she had grown up hungry, he was the one who had never seized any opportunities for a better life, he was the one who had been too weak to do away with the competition… he was the reason she was here, locked in a room, faced with the prospect of only having two more days to live. Her insides clenched; there had to be a way out of this. She had talked herself out of plenty of other situations… she had evaded taxes, thrown off burglars, beguiled proprietors come to buy their land. What could she do that would make the king forget about that room of straw?

She glanced desperately around the lovely room. Her eyes fell on the vanity. She walked over to it and collapsed into the spindly chair, facing the bejeweled mirror. Her face looked tired and scared, something she hated, and she turned away. Looking through the drawers, she found the most extraordinary things; combs adorned with pearls, exotic perfume, necklaces, rings, bracelets, all made of precious metals and jewels. Picking out an emerald ring, she slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand. But as she was admiring it, a thought clicked in her mind. _Marriage_. The king was unmarried, with no heir… he must _want_ an heir, she thought. She imagined the prospect; she would be queen, safe from blades of any sort. She smiled to herself… she'd never be hungry again.

Confident, she stood and looked at the door to the room of straw. _Just another challenge, _she thought, and was about to just turn away and go to bed when she heard the soft whirring of a spinning wheel. But that couldn't be… she was just tired, and thinking too much about her situation. She sat down on the bed, but the sound continued, soft but very real. She shook her head furiously, convinced she was hallucinating. But the sound fervently persisted, and more to prove to herself that she wasn't going crazy than anything else, she crossed over to the door and opened it.

But she had barely stepped into the room when she uttered a cry and her hand flew up to her mouth. The lamps in the room had all been lit, and the wheel was indeed spinning, apparently of its own accord. Panicking only slightly, she searched around for the source of all this. Suddenly she heard shuffling, and amongst the mounds of straw she saw the shadow of figure.

"Who's there?" she said through her fingers. "Who are you?"

"Madam, I have come hither to help no other but thyself," came a low, smooth voice.

"Come out," Ginger said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

The figure shuffled forward, and from out of the shadows came a man, or at least something that resembled a man. He was no higher than four feet tall, with a long, straight nose and wrinkled skin. His eyes were darkened by the black bowler hat he wore, but they shined and gleamed at her nonetheless. A thin mustache lined his upper lip, and his gray hair just barely reached his shoulders. His thin body was dressed in a fine gray pantsuit and shiny black leather shoes. He reached up and pulled off his hat with long fingers that, to Ginger's wonder, had no nails. He grinned and bowed low.

"Who are you?" she breathed, not sure whether to be frightened or amused.

He shook his head. "No, madam, I canst not tell thee, but I am thy friend."

Ginger's eyes narrowed again; she was suspicious of his speech and of his appearance, and especially of his disinclination to tell her his name. But she had an innate feeling that she could get him to help her, and so continue to question him.

"Why would you be my friend? I do not know you," she said.

"Thou art in trouble, madam. I have come hither to help thee."

"By doing what?" Ginger asked almost excitedly.

He smiled, an oddly reassuring sight. "I can spin thy straw into golden thread."

Ginger's heart leapt, but she quickly disguised her excitement and raised an eyebrow.

"Really? In return for what?" she inquired.

He cast an eager glance from her head to her feet. "Thy ring, lady."

She looked at the ring on her finger. A small price to pay, she thought; it wasn't even hers, after all. It was a very good thing that she had kept her grandmother's ring safe and sound in the jewelry box.

"Can you do it in two nights?" she asked.

"Ay, milady, I can."

Thrilled as she was, she thought for a moment, wondering his authenticity. If he was speaking the truth, and he did spin the straw in return for nothing but the ring, then she would not only stay alive but most likely be very favorable in the king's eye. If she produced the gold, he'd have to, at the very least, elevate her to aristocracy. Then she could shut down her father's mill and build them their own manor home, or move them to the city. Perhaps she could even attend the university! She looked back down at the man.

"Alright, then. If you spin all this straw into gold by the end of tomorrow night, I shall give you this ring," she said, choosing her words carefully.

The man bowed again. "I shalt keep thee to thy word, lady."

"And I shall keep you to yours," she replied.

He straightened and smiled. Ginger nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She hurried away from the door and sat down on the bed, her mind suddenly at ease. For whatever reason, she trusted the stranger, mysterious as he was. Besides, she had said she wouldn't give him the ring until after he had finished the straw; and if he truly would spin all that straw by the end of tomorrow night, in return for nothing but this ring, she'd keep her head.

_I'll check in the morning,_ she thought. _Just to make sure he started._

She breathed a sigh of relief and lay down on the bed. She smiled; she wouldn't have to convince the king to marry her after all. She laughed. What a silly idea that was! Amazing what desperate people will do.

And with that amusing thought, Ginger went to sleep.

* * *

She awoke the following morning to the sound of a maid bustling about her room. Sitting up, she groggily yawned and squinted in the bright morning sun.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"Eight o'clock, miss," the maid said, before laying out a wash towel and then leaving the room.

Ginger rubbed her eyes but didn't leave the bed. It was so soft and warm… nothing like the hard, straw-filled cot she had at home.

But the thought of straw triggered something in her brain, and she reluctantly left the bed to stand in front of the door to the room of straw. For a moment she didn't open it; a sudden flood of panic was running through her veins. That little man… he seemed awfully like something from a dream, something that her mind would work up just to soothe her senses. What if she _had_ just dreamt it? What if this was the last day she would wake up alive?

She slid her hand to the doorknob and pulled. Nothing happened. Fully awake and full of dread, she jiggled the knob violently; why was it locked? She pounded on it furiously, but it didn't budge. But then she noticed lovely hair clip lying on the vanity. Perhaps… she picked it up and, muttering a soft prayer, slid it quickly between the lock and the door. To her relief, she heard a click, and when she again tried the doorknob, the door opened easily.

The spectacular sight that met her on the other side surely wiped away any dread or panic she'd ever had. Instead of mounds of straw, half the room was full of mounds of gold, glittering, sparkling golden thread that glimmered merrily in the sun. Filled with awe, Ginger reached out and pulled a strand of thread from the nearest pile. It was thin, and strong, and was so beautiful that Ginger wanted to just sit amongst the stacks all morning. But footsteps out in the hall jerked her out of her trance, and she quickly rushed out of the room and closed the door, hopping back into bed.

Her bedroom door opened and the king marched in with several guards. Now that her mind was at ease, Ginger smiled at him and thought, _He's not so bad looking after all._

The king noticed her smile and a greedy gleam glinted in his eye.

"And how was your night?" he asked.

"Wonderful, your majesty. This bed is marvelous," she said with a grin.

He smiled humorlessly. "And how did you fare?" he asked, gesturing to the door.

"Quite well," she lied. "I got a good amount of rest. I should be done by tomorrow morning, no problem," she said, smiling as she tried to subtly smooth her hair.

He nodded. "Well… excellent," he said tightly, as if containing himself. He suddenly smiled a bit genially and went to her window to open the curtains. He actually was a _little_ handsome, Ginger thought. Not bad at all, really. Even if he was selfish, he was terribly distinguished. And besides, she thought as he moved to the next window, they were of the same mold, weren't they? They could both get whatever they wanted… She saw in him a glimmer of herself, something that both pleased and alarmed her.

"Well, did you finish your sightseeing yesterday?" he asked, his voice still cold, but his eyes thawing a little.

"I suppose so," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I'll have someone take you for a tour today, of the palace," he said.

A little disappointed that it wouldn't be him, she threw a smile on her face and nodded. "That would be lovely," she said. "Thank you, your majesty."

He nodded curtly, and then swept out of the room. The maid from earlier came back in, accompanied by another young woman, and folded the bedcovers back.

"I'll be starting your bath, miss," she said, curtsying and going to the washroom.

"And I'll be setting out your clothes, miss," the other said. "Do you have a preference?"

Ginger shook her head. "No, not at all."

The maid nodded, and went to the closet. Ginger rubbed her eyes and stretched, the warm spring sun filtering onto her bed. With a smile, she fell back onto the pillows, feeling like she never wanted to leave this bed, or this palace. She thought of her tiny cottage, out in the woods. Her anger at her father from last evening swept out of her again, as she realized it was awful to belittle her father like that; he had done the best he could raising her, all by himself. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't offer her more than that life. After all, it was because of that life that made her the way she was now. Lying in her warm bed, with maids preparing her bath and setting out her clothes, the thought of her loving father soothing her, and the memory of that magnificent gold in the next room, Ginger felt the happiest she'd ever felt in her life.

The one maid had carefully laid out a silk, knee-length lavender dress, and then had gone into the washroom to help the other girl. Ginger heard them whispering, and rather curious, she quietly slipped out of bed and crouched at the door.

"What a heartless man! No wonder no one likes him!" one hissed.

"And he locks her room at night, as well," the other whispered.

"Hm! It's little question that he isn't married or has any friends! No one will ever admire him if he's so conniving and greedy."

They had finished pouring the water and Ginger immediately became fascinated with the crown molding on the ceiling. The two maids left the washroom and curtsied to Ginger.

"Thank you," she said with what she hoped was kindness.

They murmured something and left the room. Ginger walked slowly into the washroom and took off her nightgown. Did everyone really think that of the king? Did they all dislike him so? She was suddenly very disappointed of what she had felt earlier: that she and the king were alike in so many ways. It reminded her forcibly of how greatly others disliked someone who was devious and conniving – in other words, someone like her. But, she reasoned with herself, for her it was a matter of life or death. If she hadn't tricked the local spinner into letting her keep her own profits, she wouldn't have lived to see eighteen. And yes, the little man had spun the gold last night – but how did she know for sure he would tonight? If she _wasn't_ conniving, she would die.

The thought of marriage had been a bit extreme, she thought to herself. That wasn't necessary – _that _had been greed. She was never greedy, had never been greedy; she had merely gotten what she needed to stay alive. That was all.

She relaxed in the hot water and allowed her senses to be calmed. _However, _she thought, _if the king, for whatever reason, would ask me to marry him, I'd have to agree._ _He wouldn't think twice of beheading the woman who refuses him. _He was, after all, the king. So he wants some golden thread. Most kings were greedy, weren't they? She thought of the king of Parfalia, her kingdom's hated rival. She had once heard a story that he'd destroyed an entire village searching for a measly ruby. Now _that_ was greedy.

Ginger got out of the bath feeling a sense of purpose. Perhaps she could befriend the king; heaven knows he could do with a friend or two, she thought. They _were_ so alike, no matter what way she looked at it. As she dressed, she tried to think of a way to get _him_ to give her a tour of the palace. The silk was so very soft and light, and the sun was so warm… there had to be a way to befriend him. The maid had also left out a hat of the latest fashion, and an amethyst hair clip. Fixing her hair and attaching the clip, she put on the hat and grinned at herself in the mirror.

She left the room and strolled into the throne room, ready to begin working on him. However, the room was entirely empty, but Ginger didn't fret. She walked straight up to a guard and asked where the king was.

"He is in his study, miss," the guard said.

"And where is that?" Ginger asked.

The guard turned sharply and began to walk out of the room, Ginger trotting alongside him. They walked down the corridor that led to the entrance hall, and then up the grand staircase, and then to the left. Turning left once more, Ginger found herself in a smallish, round, carpeted room, with maple-wood walls and a small chandelier. Armchairs lined the walls in a semicircle; there was a handsome desk across from the entrance and next to a wide door that blended in with the walls. Another guard stood at the door, and several wealthy men sat in the chairs, reading or writing. Ginger's escort bowed and left, leaving her to wonder whether she could even see the king or not. She decided to give it a shot, and went to the guard.

"I have to see the king," she said.

The guard's mouth twitched. He inclined his head.

"Did you receive a summons with an appointed time?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I'm the miller's daughter, Ginger. I have to speak with him about something," she said sharply.

This time the guard nodded. "Of course, miss. Just one moment."

He turned to the door and rapped twice. Ginger heard the king's voice permitting entrance, and the guard went in. A few moments later, the guard came out with a ruffled-looking banker, who glared at Ginger before huffily leaving. Ginger shrugged and went in as the guard held the door for her.

The king was sitting at a splendid desk, writing. He indicated a chair, but Ginger didn't sit.

"What would you like?" he asked, not looking up.

"You didn't have to cut short your meeting, your majesty. I could have waited a moment or two," she said with a smile.

"I would have cut it short anyway. He was displeasing me."

Ginger chuckled, not at all falsely. The king looked up at this.

"What do you want?" he asked again.

She waved a hand and sauntered to the desk, admiring a silver sculpture on his desk.

"I was just wondering about that tour, sire," she said.

"Ah. I'll have someone come immediately," he said, his hand reaching for a copper bell. Her hand stopped him, though, and she smiled at his confused alarm.

"I was actually wondering, sir, if _you_ could take me for the tour."

The king looked as if he were about to laugh, but then realized she was serious. His eyes narrowed.

"It is _your_ palace, after all, majesty. Your tour would be so much more personal and interesting than some boring guard. And I don't spin very well if my mind is weary." She paused, careful to keep smiling. He still looked as if the sky had just fallen. "I know you could use a day off. You're the king, cancel your appointments, majesty. And if they protest, just chop their heads off."

A smile definitely twitched at his mouth, but he controlled it. She could see his mind working; he could either say no and run the risk of his gold being in jeopardy, or he could give in and please her. She knew his decision before he even said it.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to be weary," he said. He put his pen aside and stood up. He walked to the door and rapped once. The guard instantly appeared.

"Tell them all to leave and come back tomorrow," he ordered.

"Sire?" the guard asked in incredulity.

"All of them," the king repeated.

The guard bowed and closed the door. Ginger could hear the grumblings of the men as they were told to leave; she smiled. The king picked up his jacket and put it on as Ginger looked at his bookshelves.

"See you anything you like?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes… things that I would _like_ to read, anyway." She paused. "I saw the university yesterday."

"Did you walk around?" he asked, as if eager to keep her interested and lively.

She smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I couldn't help it. It looked amazing."

"Best professors on the continent," the king stated.

She nodded and turned around. He gestured to the door, and she smiled and led him out of the room. The round room was empty except for the guard, who bowed quickly. The king snapped his fingers and the guard walked behind them as they left the room.

"Which way?" she asked once out the door. The king looked left, then right, and then left again and began to walk. She walked alongside him; the corridor had no more doors, and instead ended in a staircase that zigzagged down. On the opposite wall was a beautiful stained glass window, and the king paused.

"My great-grandfather decided to rip out several windows and replace them with stained glass," he said, his voice and face still stony.

"Why?" Ginger asked.

The king shrugged. "Because he could."

Ginger chuckled. The king led her down the stairs to the next floor, into a wide navy-carpeted corridor with several statues.

"Empty… empty… closet… closet…" he said offhandedly as they passed a few doors. He then stopped in front of a rather plain-looking door and signaled to the guard to open it. They walked inside and the guard hurriedly lighted a few lamps.

It seemed like an armory, except everything was very old and in glass cases. There was armor made of brass and iron, shining swords were jewel-encrusted hilts, and beat-up shields that bore the kingdom's flag.

"This is all the armor worn by past kings," the king said. "Once they die, their armor is brought into this room, exactly as it was when they died."

Ginger had happened to stop in front of a blackened sword as he said this.

"So if they die in battle…?" she asked, pointing to the sword.

"Then it's preserved with everything that was on it when they died," he finished, smiling at her apparent disgust. "All the armor is nearly the same, except that each king's initials are engraved on their chest."

Without asking if she was finished, he beckoned the guard and they left the room, the guard extinguishing the lamps. They continued down the corridor; the right side broke for a staircase, but the left side had no doors until two wide ones at the end, where the hall led into the grand foyer. The king opened the two doors and they stepped into a steeply sloped lecture hall of sorts, with rows of seats and the kingdom's flag draped on the back wall.

"I give speeches here," the king said, looking around the room as if searching for something else to say about it. He apparently found nothing, and shrugged and they left the room.

The tour continued in that vein, with the king saying a few words about each room and then moving on to the next. Ginger actually coaxed a few stories out of him, including one where he had pelted a duke with apples when he was eight in the ballroom, for no apparent reason. Ginger had laughed as he told it, something that appeared to confuse him, which only made her laugh harder.

Around midday, Ginger's stomach was grumbling with hunger, for she had never had breakfast. They sat on a patio outside, eating lunch overlooking the green lawn and gardens below.

"How often do you travel out of Ende, your majesty?" Ginger ventured to ask.

"Not often. My main business is here," he replied carefully.

She nodded and continued to eat. They ate in a silence that began as awkward, but eased into comfortable. As the clock struck one, the king rose.

"I really must be going. I have a meeting that cannot be delayed," he said.

Ginger rose as well and nodded. "Of course, your majesty."

He looked to the guard who had followed them the entire time. "Take her to the library," he told the guard, and then with a curt nod, he left.

The guard gestured for Ginger to follow him, and she strolled behind him as they wound their way through the palace. They were all the way up on the fifth floor when the guard finally stopped at splendidly white double doors with golden doorknobs. They were the only doors in the small hallway, and on either side stood busts of the kingdom's most eminent literary figures. The guard opened the door for her, and then walked away.

Ginger gasped as she walked in. The library was a fantastically enormous room with what looked like thousands upon thousands of books. She stood at the very top of a three-story flight of stairs that led down to the main floor, where a couches and armchairs sat in front of a handsome fireplace. She took her time examining the room, and picked out more books than she could hold. She tottered down toward the seats, and collapsed into a squishy sofa. Eagerly picking out a book from her pile, she began to read. Curling up, she devoured the books all afternoon.

* * *

A/N : Wow, totally boring ending, but I didn't want to go any farther. SORRY this took so long! I really didn't mean it to, I've been dying to write, but school is evil, and college applications are evil, and my physics class is EVIL! Ah!

So hopefully the next one won't take nearly as long. But keeping reviewing! And if anyone likes Harry Potter stories, I uploaded a new one, which so far has a grand total of zero reviews. How depressing.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma


	4. Ginger and the Gold

**Chapter 4**

Around quarter to four that afternoon, a butler came into the library to tell Ginger that the king was inviting her to court that evening. Dinner was not going to be held in the regular dining hall, since a special event was being held in the ballroom instead. The king requested that Ginger wear one of the finer ball gowns in her closet, and to be in the ballroom precisely at five. Ginger thanked the butler and reluctantly left the library for her room.

When she got to her chamber, she found two maids already lying out a dress and preparing to fix Ginger's hair. The gown was a gorgeous copper satin in the latest fashion; off the shoulders with a bit of tulle edging the top. The skirt was full but not bulky, and Ginger put it on and spun around a bit with a grin on her face. She could tell the maids were suppressing giggles as she childishly clapped her hands.

As she looked at the clock, she realized it was only quarter after four, and she asked her maids if it could possibly take them forty-five minutes to fix her hair. The maids exchanged a glance, and then one stepped forward.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but if you'd like it in the latest fashion, we must start at once," she said with a blush.

Ginger almost laughed aloud, but she nodded and sat down in front of the vanity, trying to get as comfortable as possible in the spindly chair. It took both maids nearly half an hour to get her hair high up, braided, curled, and wrapped around in a sort of bun. Ginger felt her head would fall back, her hair was so heavy, but the end result was rather lovely. Ginger grinned into the mirror as the maids found a simple diamond necklace and bracelet to go with the dress, and finally at five to five, they nervously hurried her out of the room, telling her a shortcut to get to the ballroom. Hiking up her skirt, Ginger raced up several sets of stairs and snaked her way through a few blurred hallways, and then very suddenly, found herself in a second grand foyer of sorts. Ginger cocked an eyebrow; the king had definitely not taken her here on their tour. The foyer was packed with nobles, and although she was in the fanciest thing she had ever worn, Ginger suddenly felt a little underdressed. The other ladies' gowns were decked out in jewels, feathers, and embroidery.

Not knowing quite what to do, Ginger pretended to mill around with the others while trying to see what was going on. The party appeared to be waiting for a grand set of doors to open; her eyes traveled up a small red-carpeted staircase to the two mammoth white doors where two heralds stood at attention. The foyer itself had a cream marble floor, a glittering crystal chandelier, and several statues and paintings. Seeing as she knew absolutely no one, Ginger detached herself and went to look at the paintings, several of which bore inscriptions or little plaques.

"I'm so sorry, but are you a foreigner?"

Ginger jumped at the sound of a voice and she whirled around. A woman a little older than herself was looking at her quizzically; she was dressed in a very fine lavender gown, and wore diamonds the size of apples on her ears. She spoke to Ginger in a slow, coaxing sort of voice.

"Can you understand me?"

Ginger smiled. "Yes… and no, I'm not a foreigner. I'm from Cuira County."

The woman still looked puzzled, but in a different way. "Ah, of course, Cuira."

Ginger resented the way she said Cuira… as if it was something she would rather not think about.

"Well then… what are you doing in Ende? And at court?" the woman went on, speaking with such sweet, false kindness Ginger wanted to vomit.

"I've had business with the king. He invited me," Ginger replied, making sure her answer was as nebulous as possible.

"How lovely." The lady paused. "Oh, I'm so sorry; where are my manners? I'm Lady Alexandria, my father is the Marquis of Moriana," she said, naming a seaside, and very wealthy, county. Ginger smiled.

"My name is Ginger, and my father is a miller," she said, widening her smile at the look of horror on the lady's face. But Lady Alexandria quickly hid her reaction, and gracefully smiled.

"How lovely," she repeated. They stood in a tense silence for a moment or two, each surveying the other. Lady Alexandria had slightly sandy blonde hair with streaks of sun-bleached platinum. Her face and body were tanned, making her blue eyes sparkle and shine. She had a pretty face, but nothing extraordinary. Ginger could tell Alexandria was scrutinizing her as well, and she flashed a smile.

"The king took me for the most wonderful tour of the palace today," she said.

Lady Alexandria's eyes widened at once, and her mouth fell open a little.

"How… kind of him," she said in a choked voice.

"It's a very fascinating place. I hope I get to stay here for some time," Ginger went on, trying very hard not to laugh at the look of utmost shock on the lady's face. She wasn't even bothering to disguise it anymore, but continued to look at Ginger as if she grown another head.

They were spared from any more painful chitchat by the ringing of a bell. The entire court fell silent, and the doors opened. The king stepped out on to the top of the stairs, and everyone bowed.

"Thank you, thank you," he said. "Tonight, we celebrate the day we defeated the kingdom of Parfalia in the War of the Border. A small victory, perhaps, but any victory over Parfalia is a worthy victory!"

Everyone applauded. Ginger, however, stared around at the party, not one of whom seemed to share her incredulity that they were celebrating a five-day war that ended over seventy-five years ago and had been fought for a one-square mile piece of land. She loathed Parfalia just as much as the next person, but this seemed a bit ridiculous.

The king held his hands up and the clapping died down.

"So come, and let's celebrate!"

The applause resumed, and the court began to move forward and into the ballroom.

"Is this always celebrated?" Ginger asked Lady Alexandria.

"Oh yes, every year," Alexandria replied, as they were bustled along up the stairs.

Ginger was going to ask whether every single victory over Parfalia in the history of the kingdom was celebrated as well, but just then they entered the ballroom, and Ginger forgot the subject entirely. The ballroom was dazzling; a white marble floor, five sparkling chandeliers, two floors: the lower dance floor and the higher veranda, tables and tables of food, hundreds and hundreds of flowers… it was almost too much to take in. At the end of the room stood the king's throne, and next to that stood a platform on which sat a cannon.

"What is that cannon doing here?" Ginger asked Alexandria, following her to a table.

Ginger knew very well that Alexandria was trying to shake her off, but the lady replied politely anyhow.

"That was the cannon used in the war that killed the Parfalian king's highest general," she said in a patronizing voice.

Ginger nodded and sat down next to Alexandria, who rolled her eyes very noticeably but didn't protest. An orchestra had already begun to play, and a few couples were out dancing on the floor, but most were lining along the buffet-style tables, loading their plates. A few young ladies joined Ginger and Alexandria, the latter of whom reluctantly introduced Ginger to the others. Although they reacted with the same alarm to her parentage and home, they smiled and attempted to let her join the conversation. Ginger wasn't fooled, and wasn't exactly keen on talking about gossip and fashion, either, so she stood and went to get something to eat.

As she stood in the long line, pretending to inspect the artwork on the walls while the nobles around her whispered and pointed at her, Ginger found herself sneaking glances out the window, willing the sun to set. Today the king might not even have to tell her to go back to her room; she'd probably just go herself, to be rid of this rather insufferable company. Why did he even invite her to these things? She watched him talking with some men in military uniforms. He completely baffled her… she knew he was greedy, callous, and utterly spineless, but now that she thought on it, his father had been nothing of the sort. In fact, his father, the previous king, had been wonderful… low taxes, an easing of tensions with Parfalia, a growth in education… She wondered why his son was so very different, and why others weren't wondering the same thing. From what she knew, King Alfred, the father, had been very generous with the nobility, to keep their loyalty. King Terrence, the current king and Ginger's object of scrutiny, was probably not half so generous, yet here they were, all sorts of lords and ladies, simpering over his every word.

A loud cough behind her snapped her out her reverie, and she realized the line had moved considerably. She muttered a quick "sorry" and moved up, keeping her eyes on the king. He smiled very little, but seemed to listen intently and be genuinely interested. She wondered if he would smile tomorrow morning when he saw the piles and piles of gold; she grinned suddenly, just picturing the look on his face: one of shock and utter glee. It would be enough gold to last him practically the rest of his life… she thought about whether he would just send her home, or keep her in Ende, elevate her to aristocracy… Lady Ginger – it had a nice ring to it. She could buy her father's mill, update it with current technology, and make sure it stayed open. She could refurnish the cottage, or buy her father a new home if he wanted. She'd buy a townhouse and attend the university… then she'd travel, see the entire kingdom; the ocean, the deserts, the mountains, everything.

Piling her plate with food, she returned to Lady Alexandria's table and began to eat, noticing the sky was beginning to slightly darken. She ate quickly, earning herself disdainful and disgusted stares from the young ladies at the table. Otherwise they ignored her, pointing out a few young men they were hoping would ask them to dance. They finally got their wish, as a few handsome young men made their way to the table and whisked the girls away to the dance floor.

Placing her napkin on the table, Ginger stood and looked out the window. The sky was streaked with purple and orange; the sun was setting. She decided she might as well leave now, as there wasn't anything else for her to do now that she had eaten. She stood on her tiptoes, looking above the crowd for the king, to tell him she was leaving. She soon found him standing at a table across the dance floor from her, just as he was finishing a conversation. He straightened, and was about to move on to the next table when his eyes fell on Ginger. She pointed to the door, mouthing "I'm going to go," to him. His eyes looked out a window, and then flashed in excitement. He nodded to her, and then moved away.

Ginger hurried out of the ballroom, and then took her time winding back to her chamber. She whistled a tune her father used to sing on the first day of spring, a happy, cheerful song that had always lifted her spirits. She paused in front of her door, wondering if the little man was already there, spinning away. She opened the door, and sure enough, the soft sound of the whirring spinning wheel could be heard through the straw room door. She fingered the ring on her finger; the ring she had promised she'd give to her little savior. Somehow, it didn't seem like enough, for she truly owed her life to him, but it had been what he had requested. It really was a beautiful ring, and probably worth more money than she could ever dream of.

Ginger slipped off the elegant ball gown and changed into her simple night shift. Taking down her hair took an extraordinary amount of patience, but it eventually came tumbling down her back, curly and wavy and rather messy. She kept the ring on her finger as she crawled into the bed, reaching for a book. Turning the gas lamp down low, she sat comfortably amongst the pillows and pondered the sparkling emerald ring. What must it be like, she thought, to be able to throw jewels around without a care in the world. She smiled to herself; perhaps she would know some day.

How long she read, she couldn't know, for after awhile, the soothing whirring of the spinning wheel lulled her into a dreamless, restful sleep

* * *

"My lady. My lady, awaken."

Ginger heard the low, silky voice as if from very faraway. She wanted to tell it to go away, she was still sleeping, but it persisted. After several moments, as if the voice was willing her to wake up, her eyes fluttered open quite on their own.

She lay awkwardly amongst the pillows, her book lying on her chest. It took her few moments to realize she was awake, and she brushed a few strands of hair out of her face to see the little man standing beside her bed. The sky outside was still dark, and the clock on her wall chimed five o'clock in the morning.

"I apologize for waking you, my lady," the man said, bowing low before her, "but I must leave before dawn."

"Oh," Ginger murmured, clearing her throat. "Of course," she said, sitting up.

"No, no, my lady, please lie back down," he insisted, his voice smooth and calming. She did as he said, completely entranced in her groggy state.

"I only desire to fulfill our bargain, my lady," he said.

"Of course," Ginger repeated, his voice so trustworthy, and instinctively she slid the ring off her finger. She gazed at its perfection one last time, and then handed it to him. He took it eagerly in his hands, inspecting it, and then putting it in an inside pocket.

"I am very grateful, lady," he said, bowing low, and then suddenly in a blink, he was gone.

Ginger sat up straight, her spellbound grogginess suddenly gone, straining her eyes through the darkness. She stretched out a hand, searching for him, but he had actually vanished. She fell back onto the pillows, amazed and thoroughly unsettled. She had never really given any thought as to what kind of creature this … man, if he _was _one, was. Was he a sorcerer of some kind? She had heard of magicians and witches who lived in the west, near the swamplands. Fairy tribes lived in the mountains, and there was a very dangerous enchanted wood in the south, near the sea. Most magical people were extremely dangerous, and were not to be trusted… or so the people of Aurelia were told. Relations with them were strictly forbidden, and Ginger immediately felt very, almost painfully, aware of her thoughtlessness. The direness of her situation, her absolute desperation, had made her blind. She still could be in a very perilous situation; what if it was found out that she hadn't spun the gold, and that she had made a bargain with some mysterious, magical creature? What if the little man was running to the king right now, to tell on her? She had trusted him without giving it a moment's thought! _Stupid, Ginger!_ she cursed herself. How could she have been so foolish?

She leaped out of bed and threw the door to the straw room open. Lighting a lamp, the room blazed to life, nearly blinding her. The gold was brilliantly shiny and sparkling, dazzling her sensitive eyes. The room was chock full of it; not one speck of straw was to be found. She breathed a partial sigh of relief. At least the little man had kept his word on this score.

She walked barefoot among the piles of gold, glittering and beautiful. The thread was strong, but thin, and very soft. She grinned happily despite herself; perhaps even if the king did find out she hadn't spun the gold, he'd be so enchanted with it he wouldn't care.

She didn't note how long she spent wandering in wonder of the gold, but suddenly she noticed through the open door that the sun had begun to come up. Reluctantly she decided she should get dressed before the king arrived, and with one last longing touch, she left the gold and closed the door.

But no sooner had she done so than her door burst open with a resounding bang. Ginger gasped, checking her shift to make sure she was decent, as the king, fully dressed and accompanied by no less than five guards, strode into the room.

"Lights," he commanded, and the guards immediately broke formation and lit the several lamps in the room.

"Good morning, sire," Ginger said, sinking into a curtsy.

He nodded. "We shall see if it is or not," he said, eyeing her night shift with a mischievous smirk. "Did you get some sleep?" he asked suspiciously, looking over at her clearly slept-in bed.

"Yes, a very little," she lied, her stomach slowly unclenching. If her magical man had told on her, the king would have had her in shackles by now.

"I finished about an hour ago," she said, trying to subtly comb her hair.

"Excellent," the king said. "Well?" he questioned, indicating the door.

"Oh! Right. Here you are, your majesty," she said with as charming a smile as she could muster this early in the morning. She went to the door, and with a deep breath, opened it.

Immediately, the king's eyes opened wide, the light of the gold reflected in their steely blue depths. His mouth opened very slightly, and then curled into a devilish grin. He strode into the room, reaching out to touch the nearest pile of gold. He picked out a strand, testing its strength. Holding it in his hands, he looked around, seemingly for any trace of straw. When he found none, he turned back to Ginger, who was grinning like a little schoolgirl.

"Amazing," he proclaimed. "Absolutely amazing."

"Perhaps you would like me to take some to the textile mill?" she asked with a sly smile, remembering his words at their first meeting. His eyes clouded, remembering his words, as well.

"No, no," he said casually. "I think I shall keep all this for myself."

"Whatever you wish, your majesty," Ginger said.

"But I _would_ like the mills to have some. You shall make more, for them to have."

"Your majesty?" Ginger asked, shocked. _More?_

"Yes, I think perhaps an even bigger room, so we can send some to other mills, as well. Yes, I shall take down that wall and make the room larger."

"_Tonight_, your majesty?" Ginger sputtered. The king turned to her with a suspicious shine in his eye; Ginger mentally kicked herself and forced her gaping mouth into a suave smile.

"Because I am so dreadfully tired from these past two nights. I worked so hard, to make sure the gold pleased you," she said, walking toward him and casually brushing her hair over one shoulder.

The king seemed at a loss for words for a moment, but then shook his head very quickly.

"No, of course not, not tonight. It will take a few days to take down the wall, and acquire enough straw. Besides," he went on, taking a few steps toward her so that they very close, "I must show you off."

She smiled. "As you wish, your majesty," she said softly.

* * *

A/N : Wow, that was an incredibly depressing two and half months. I cannot believe how long it has been since I've written! I am now at the point of actually counting down the days left until May 25, which is when I can leave high school forever.

Anyway, I am so sorry, guys. I hope (hoping, hoping, hoping) that I'll be able to update more often from now on. My second semester is a lot of work, but it's pretty easy and goes quickly. Any help as far as editing goes will be greatly appreciated.

So please review and let me know you haven't abandoned me! That would make me even more depressed, which would be very dangerous indeed.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	5. Ginger and the People

Chapter 5 – Ginger and the People

The moment the door closed behind the king, Ginger cried out in jubilation and hopped out of happiness. He'd had his guards take all the golden thread out of the room, leaving the spinning wheel looking rather forlorn in the big empty room. Ginger kissed it with exuberance and continued to dance about the room. She had the king wrapped around her finger, and she loved it.

Before long, maids were bustling into the room to prepare her bath and her clothing. They were eyeing her with something bordering on awe, and Ginger grinned to them as they freshened her flowers, filled the bath with hot water and intoxicating oils, and brought her a gorgeous emerald dress and matching hat. Once they left, Ginger sunk into the bath, humming to herself. She closed her eyes, trying to etch the picture of the king's face as he looked upon the gold into her memory so that she could remember it forever. The way his eyes had lit up, the way his lips had curled into a smile, the way his breathing had become harsher… it was all rather sensual, in a way.

Emerging from the bath smelling of lavender and vanilla, Ginger eagerly put on the dress; it was low cut in the front, with a sparkling diamond brooch at the bosom. It was cinched around the waist, and the skirt flared and fell to around her knees. She twirled a bit in it before the maids were arriving again to fix her hair. They pinned it back, adorning it with a few pearls, before affixing the hat, which was jauntily set at an angle so that the small veil hung over her eyes. They then handed her short gloves and some shoes and left once again, bowing their heads slightly as they left. She pulled on the lacey green gloves and buckled the pointed, high-heeled shoes before going to stand in front of the mirror. She smiled happily, even as her door opened and some guards marched in. Sighing, she turned away from the mirror to face her new visitors.

"Presenting His Highness the venerable Lord Agustino, Highest Counselor to His Majesty the King," the nearest guard announced in a booming voice. Ginger's brow furrowed; she couldn't see any counselor. But then the guards parted and a tall, thin man emerged from the hallway, walking in the shadows of the bulky guards. It wasn't until he had reached within a foot of Ginger that she could see his face, but when he did, her happiness waned considerably.

Lord Agustino was easily a foot taller than she, and seemed to be made of naught but skin and bones. His fingers were long and bony; his skin was paler than the moon and had wrinkles so deep they looked like craters; his face was pinched and drawn, with eyes as big as saucers that were watery and pallid, and a large, hooked nose. His mouth was small and his lips were thin and cracked. She bowed her head slightly out of shock, but he seemed to expect more.

"Curtsy," he rasped in a deep, crackling voice.

She sunk into a curtsy immediately, feeling the need to do whatever this man said. He innately instilled more fear in her than the king ever had, and she didn't seem to be the only one. The guards were stiller and more tense than she had ever seen them.

"Arise," he ordered, and she rose, keeping her eyes down.

"Look at me," he ordered again, and her eyes flew up to meet his.

"So, you are the miller's daughter Terrence can't seem to stop talking about," Lord Agustino began, circling around her like an overgrown vulture. "Certainly not quite as remarkable as he made you out to be," he went on, picking up her wrist and examining her rather skinny arm, "nor nearly as… spirited."

This comment struck Ginger, and she straightened and cocked her chin, nearly laughing in the face of this shriveled old weezebag.

"You do me an injustice, sir," she said defiantly. "You only just met me."

Something flashed behind his hazy eyes. "You curtsied without the blink of an eye."

"I was taught proper manners," she retorted.

He paused. "You seem to have made an extraordinary impression on the king."

"I have that effect on people," she said, her initial fear growing into dislike.

"Well, let me tell you it will not last long. Terrence often finds toys he likes and then discards them before long."

"Have any of his _toys _ever made him richer?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, but a few wise words from his most trusted advisor might make him change his mind."

"I think his majesty is capable of making up his own mind."

"I wouldn't be so sure." He stepped closer to her, bringing his voice to a near whisper. "_I _run this kingdom, Miss Ginger. Remember that."

And without so much as a farewell, the _venerable_ Lord Agustino turned away from Ginger and swept out of the room.

Standing still in the spot where he had left her, Ginger felt overcome with the need to jump into the bath and cleanse herself again. Lord Agustino had left her with an awful feeling that began in her heart and was spreading throughout her body.

What exactly had he meant, _I run this kingdom_? The very thought gave her goosebumps. The king seemed very much in control – but then again, things _aren't_ always what they seem. Why, many people saw _her _as a meek, impoverished girl which she certainly was not. Perhaps the king _wasn't_ in control, perhaps that hooked nose slimeball really was running the kingdom.

Or perhaps he was a sorcerer, manipulating the king's mind so that he listened to whatever his esteemed counselor said. Or perhaps he was just a nutty old man with grand illusions of power. Or _perhaps_…

"Ginger!"

Ginger gasped and jumped around, only to find the king himself standing in her room, behind him five guards, and staring at her with a look of suspicion.

"Your majesty!" she cried, and immediately curtsied – of her own accord.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.

"Yes!" she said with a smile. "I was only… Actually, I just met your _venerable_ Counselor." There was a pause. "Lord Agustino?"

The king's eyes had narrowed at the mention of his advisor. A flash of… anger, perhaps?… flew across his face before he regained his composure.

"How wonderful that he came to introduce himself… without asking me," he muttered. Ginger just smiled while she tried to figure out what could possibly be going on between the king and his advisor. To her frustration, though, she couldn't make it out just yet.

"Come," the king said, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "We must go."

"Where are we going?" she asked with a grin.

"First, you shall have breakfast. And then you shall be introduced."

"To whom?"

He just gave her that sly smile of his and kept walking.

* * *

After breakfast, Ginger was led through several hallways that she had a faint recollection of seeing before. They finally stopped at two large white doors just as the clock chimed ten.

"Don't be nervous," the king murmured.

She smirked at him. "I'm not."

He offered her his arm, and with some surprise, she took it. He kept his eyes straight ahead, so she did the same; in a matter of moments, she heard fanfare on the other side of the door, and a loud voice introducing the king. Applause thundered as the doors opened and he led her through them.

Her eyes widened at the scene before her. They were standing on a small balcony, high above a grand hall filled with people. Every single pair of eyes were staring avidly up at them, the applause deafening. Ginger grinned in spite of her shock as the king led her to the banister, waving and smiling. After a few moments, he held up his hand and silence fell immediately.

"My good and loyal courtiers, friends… advisors," he added, looking to his side. Ginger looked as well, and couldn't help but gasp when she noticed Lord Agustino and several other men clothed in black robes standing on the balcony next to the king. Lord Agustino gave them an ironic little bow, but Ginger couldn't see the king's reaction. She cocked her chin and looked away from the creepy counselor as the king continued.

"Almost two weeks ago, I was visited by a miller. I know, nothing extraordinary," he said with a chuckle, "but it did bring about something rather… remarkable." He looked at Ginger, an unfathomable expression in his hard, crystal blue eyes. She smiled lightly at him.

"I would like to introduce someone to you, someone who has just made us… well, _me_… far wealthier, and in a way that we never could have imagined. Behold!"

He let go of Ginger as two men came between them, carrying a robe made of her golden thread. A collective gasp resounded throughout the hall, and even Ginger felt a little short of breath. The robe was a thing of beauty, she thought, as it glittered and sparkled in the sunlight. The king stretched out his arms as the two men lifted the robe and placed it around his shoulders. Ginger grinned as the king turned to her and held out his hand once more. She took it, turning once again to the hundreds of faces that were now wearing looks of astonishment.

"Lords and ladies, I think we have found Aurelia's… my… most amazing subject, who can spin ordinary straw into pure gold. Ginger of Tivilla!"

The applause started up again, and Ginger was practically blushing as she looked down upon all the awed courtiers. _Fame, fortune_, she thought to herself… _what more could a girl want?_

Soon the king and Ginger joined the courtiers downstairs in the hall. The king sat on his throne in his resplendent robe while lords, barons and duchesses all came up to introduce themselves to Ginger. She was soon caught up within the crowd, shaking hands, nodding her head, smiling until her face felt like it would break in two. Many people asked her how she did it, but she only responded with a crafty smile and told them it was a secret.

She was in the middle of being told a long story by the Duke of Toreva – something to do with some goblets that he had that weren't real gold but _tasted_ like it – when she happened to glance up at the king. To her dismay, Lord Agustino was hovering by his side, talking into his ear. The king was resting his chin in his hand, but the look on his face was somewhere between frustration and interest. She narrowed her eyes; _no one_ was going to ruin this for her. Especially not a man who wore long black robes in the middle of spring.

Cutting off the Duke with a suave thank you, Ginger edged her way through the crowd and walked up to the king and Agustino. The counselor immediately stopped talking and straightened. Careful to keep her eye contact with the king alone, she smiled and sat down next to him.

"You know, I never even got a chance to ask you how you liked the robe. How is the thread?" she asked.

"Wonderful. Your next batch shall go to the mills, and then perhaps we shall begin to export it."

"Ah," she replied, before looking up at the counselor. "And what is your wise counselor's advice?"

Lord Agustino looked down his overlarge nose at her; his lip twitched slightly.

"The amount produced by only one girl is hardly going to be enough to make it worth it. I strongly advise against it," he sneered.

"On the contrary, keeping the production amount small will make it more valuable. And besides, anything the kingdom makes off it will be pure profit – after all, it's costing the kingdom nothing to make it," she replied smoothly. Looking at the scorning, greasy advisor, Ginger knew she would never be able to win him over. But she did know she could win the king over enough to overrule him.

"Excellent reasoning, Ginger. I think exporting it is an outstanding idea – you must agree Agustino," the king said.

Agustino's lips were positively quavering with fury.

"Whatever you say, you majesty," he replied stiffly. Ginger was careful not to smile too widely as she turned away from the counselor and settled more comfortably in her chair. The courtiers were once again staring up at them, and the king stood and began talking about other matters. Ginger was quickly bored with the court affairs, and began examining the room more closely. She was just admiring a portrait of the late Queen Faynor when she felt hot breath on her neck. Her entire body clenched as Lord Agustino bent down toward her.

"Mark my words, he will weary of you."

"Don't be so jealous. It seems like he wearied of _you_ a long time ago," she responded softly.

"I would be careful if I were you. You will want to watch what you say," he sneered into her ear.

"Or what, pray tell?"

"Or you might find yourself in an… _unpleasant _situation."

She turned to question him further, but he drew back to stand behind the king once more. She turned back, trembling slightly. She didn't know what this man was capable of, but she also didn't want to make the mistake of underestimating him. Her pride had gotten her into trouble before, and she had learned to regard anything as possible. She looked up at the king; she had grown to almost like him, even in his pretentious gold robe. He was intelligent, and actually listened to what she had to say. He continued to surprise her… especially by having such a sinister, power-hungry counselor. Why did he keep this man as his advisor? He was just plain creepy.

Just as she was getting lost in a swirl of her own thoughts, the king was saying her name. She jerked out of her stupor and noticed that the courtiers were leaving the hall, bowing to the king as they left.

"Are you all right?" the king asked her, his eyes narrowed; she just barely perceived them flicking to Agustino as he said it.

She smiled, standing up. "Fine, I'm fine. What's next?"

But he was still looking at her suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

She nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"Alright, then let's eat lunch."

"Excellent!"

* * *

After a lovely lunch outside on the lawn, the king left her for a brief time as Ginger wandered through the gardens. Although the palace's lawn was limited, it was absolutely gorgeous. There were many beds of flowers arranged around eating areas and ponds. It was enclosed by a very tall black iron fence, and Ginger came to a stop by an ancient sundial that stood in the middle of a bed of lilies near the road. A great commotion was coming from the city outside; during lunch, Ginger had just assumed that it was the city going about its regular business, but now that she actually stopped and looked through the fence, she noticed streams of people walking down the street towards the front gate of the castle. For a moment she watched them pass, completely bewildered, but then it struck her: she still had people to meet. _The_ people.

With a giddy laugh she turned away and, upon seeing the king standing by the side door, strode over to the castle with a grin on her face. The king led her inside and they once again began to wind their way around the hallways.

"_So_," she began, "what _is_ next?"

He turned to her with an arched eyebrow. "I thought you had already figured it out."

She smiled and opened her mouth to respond but just then they stopped at the great front doors. The clock struck two, and within moments she once again heard fanfare on the other side of the door. Her heart thumping in anticipation, she happily noted that Agustino was nowhere to be seen. With a final side glance to the king, Ginger placed a smile on her face and walked out the doors to a roaring public.

The sun was shining brightly on the many faces of the citizens as they clapped and cheered. Ginger smiled politely and stood a little behind the king as he raised his arms and silence fell.

"Good afternoon, fair people of Ende," he began. "And what an extraordinary afternoon it is. I know you all have heard rumors, but today I would like to introduce to you someone who will be a great benefit to all of us. I was told of her remarkable talents not two weeks ago, and resolved on having her visit us here in this fair city. I assure you, Parfalia has nothing that comes close to the amazing Ginger of Tivilla!"

The crowd thunderously applauded again; Ginger grinned and waved, astonished to see proper, chic, and upright men and women cheering with such giddy enthusiasm. She even laughed a little at the sight.

"Ginger," the king began when the noise died down, "is a true miracle. This common, unschooled peasant girl, the daughter of a _miller_, no less," he paused to chuckle along with the crowd, "has been blessed with the gift to spin plain straw into _pure gold_."

The crowd roared again, but Ginger's smile had vanished. _A common peasant girl?_ she thought angrily. Not three hours ago the king was praising her reasoning! Now he was scorning her upbringing, calling her a simpleton? Her feelings toward the king made an immediate nosedive; how could she have liked such a pompous, cold man? He was nothing more than a gluttonous jackass who would die all alone in his stupid golden robe. Ginger had always been passionate – perhaps _too_ passionate – with her emotions, but she felt her anger toward the king was justified. She snorted softly as the king talked about using her next batch of gold to help revive the textiles industry. She could just see it now, the king walking into the straw room the morning she was finished and declaring that he wanted this batch as well, but certainly the _next_ one would go to the people.

Ginger purposely turned her gaze away from the king; unfortunately, her eyes immediately fell on Lord Agustino, who she could see standing on a second floor balcony surrounded by his usual servants. _Push him off_, she thought angrily. _The world would certainly be better off without him._

"We will easily double – nay, triple! – the profit that Parfalia is currently making on textiles exports," the king was saying. The crowd positively wailed in excitement at this declaration, but Ginger pondered it. So _that_ was what this was all about; the king was making it seem like he wanted to boost the fabric industry when all he really wanted to do was rub Ginger's talent in Parfalia's face. She was merely a tool for revenge; everyone knew how only a few years ago, the king of Parfalia had discovered that one of his subjects had a mine rich with diamonds right on his land. The subject was, of course, executed for keeping such a secret from the king, but Parfalia's economy was suddenly booming from the unearthing of the jewels, and Aurelia's was suddenly declining.

Despite her best efforts, Ginger felt immensely disappointed. She had felt so proud of herself for the way she had the king wrapped around her finger, for the way she could speak her mind and he would actually listen. But then she thought of something else… Lord Agustino must not be in on any of this, either, or else he wouldn't have been so critical of Ginger. She thought of the moment that morning when she had told the king that exporting the gold was a good idea, whereas the counselor had contradicted her. If she really was just a tool to get back at Parfalia, then it had to have been the king's, and the king's only, idea. The only comfort she could find in the whole situation was that Lord Agustino was gravely mistaken: he certainly did _not_ run the kingdom.

She looked back over at the counselor; his eyes were narrowed, but he seemed to be listening very carefully to the king's speech. _Sorry, counselor_, she thought, _I already am in an unpleasant situation._

After a few more minutes during which Ginger practically steamed with anger, the speech was finally over and the crowd applauded once again as the king led Ginger back inside. She was careful not to smile as she turned to the king.

"I'm going to go lie down, I'm very tired," she said flatly.

"Yes, I thought you looked weary. Go rest, I'll see you for dinner," the king said, before turning his back on her and walking away with his guards. She turned on her heel and stormed to her room.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Ginger ripped off her hat and shoes and threw herself on the bed. She wasn't tired at all; rather, she felt like jumping up and down and breaking the elegant lamps the lined her walls. Instead however, she took several deep breaths until she felt calm enough to stand. She took off the beautiful green dress and hung it in the closet, and then stood gazing at her room in nothing but her boustier and slip. She sighed, wishing she was instead gazing her tiny cottage next to her father's mill, the feel of hard stone under her feet. But she couldn't give up now; to tell the king the truth would be even worse than letting herself be his weapon.

She walked over to the straw room door and opened it; the opposite wall was halfway torn down, revealing a dusty, cluttered room on the other side. She walked into the room, stopping to stand by the spinning wheel. Such a simple thing, a spinning wheel, and yet such an exquisite thing. She sat on the small stool and stared at the wheel, made of strong, smooth wood. How _did_ her little man do it? There was no earthly way to turn straw into gold, was there? There couldn't be… he had to be the master of some powerful magic. Why did the king never question this possibility? How did he not know that she wasn't some great sorceress who had the power to turn straw into gold just by the snap of a finger? What _did_ he think? Did he really think that she was somehow blessed with this ability, or that she had been taught how to do it, or that she had just randomly one day tried spinning straw and it came out gold?

Her hands fingered the wheel lovingly, thoughtfully. Her mind couldn't stop wondering just what the king thought. Perhaps he didn't think of it all… perhaps he just accepted it without question. But, her current anger at him aside, he was a very intelligent, clever man – how could he have not thought of the possibility that she was a witch of some sort? She knew, like all Aurelians, that witches were sometimes born of regular, human women, but that they were to be immediately killed or left to die in the enchanted forest. The idea of leaving one's own children to die had always disturbed her, but then again, the magic folk were very dangerous. And yet they were content to live in their own world, not wanting to bother the humans. Ginger's brow furrowed; she had never thought of this before. Why would that be? Perhaps they weren't so dangerous… her little savior had been extraordinarily polite and had come to her rescue. _Why?_

Ginger suddenly stood up, shaking her head free of all thoughts. They were starting to weigh down her mind, and she was beginning to actually feel tired. She staggered out of the room and fell onto the bed, trying to keep the constant swirl of thoughts out of her head. There were just too many questions; and yet they were questions she desperately needed answered.

* * *

Ginger had actually fallen asleep for a little bit when she was woken by a knock at her door.

"Miss Ginger? The king requests your presence at dinner," came a deep voice from the hall.

Ginger growled in her throat; she was in no mood to see the king.

"I'm not feeling well. Tell his majesty I'd like to stay in my room," she answered, making her voice sound weak and tired.

"Very well, miss," the voice said, and she heard footsteps walking away.

She fell back onto her pillows, thankful that the guard had not come in; she was still only in her shift.

Not feeling at all tired anymore, Ginger sat up and took a book from the shelf. It seemed her nap had calmed her mind down; her thoughts were leaving her alone for the time being. She turned on the lamps the hung above her head and then settled in and opened her book.

She was just getting to a particularly good part when there was another knock at her door. She sighed, but tore her eyes away from the book, and called, "Yes?"

But there was no answer. Her door opened suddenly and someone walked in, but considering she only had three lamps on in the entire room, she couldn't see them.

"Yes?" she said again, hurrying to cover herself with her bedsheets. The figure strode forward until they were by her bed and in the light.

"Your majesty!"

* * *

Dear readers,

Wow! Lame-o cliffie but I really wanted to post this chapter! Egats, how long has it been? There has been a great void in my life for the past few months that could only by filled by writing. I have been so incredibly busy that I'm so happy to just be sitting here in my swivel chair staring at my computer screen and seeing this chapter done! I'm so sorry – I know you all probably thought I had stopped writing but I hadn't! I mostly blame my new job that takes up 95 of my time – and the other five percent are spent feeling tired and irritable from the other 95 percent.

But I will make a more concerted effort to write more often from now on. I missed it so incredibly much, especially this story which I like a lot. I start college in about a month and a half, which I'm not saying will give me more free time, but it will get me away from my family who often prevents me from writing more.

Please review! I love you if you're reading this and I really would love to hear from you! I would also LOVE some suggestions as to help improve my summary. Thanks!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	6. Ginger's Questions

Chapter 6 – _Ginger's Questions_

"Your majesty! What on Earth…" Ginger trailed off, hiking her sheets up to her neck as the king calmly sat down on the edge of her bed.

"I missed you at dinner," he said, his eyes glinting in the dying candlelight. "I thought I'd check and make sure you felt alright."

She sat up straighter and cocked her chin ever so slightly. "I'm feeling better," she said coldly. He scrutinized her for several seconds, before lowering his head.

"You're angry with me," he stated. She stared at him; was _he_ angry? He certainly didn't seem it – but then what _was_ he thinking behind those hard eyes?

"Your majesty, I…" she trailed off again, not knowing what to say. A few hours ago she would have been prepared to yell and scream at him for the humiliation he'd put her through, but now she was uncertain. His demeanor was gentler, apologetic even.

"Ginger, surely an intelligent girl like yourself knows why I had to say what I said," he said, his voice softer than usual, but his eyes still hard as ice.

She sighed, fiddling with the edge of her blanket.

"I did not mean any of it," he went on, looking straight into her eyes this time. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she scrutinized him much as he had just scrutinized her. Could he possibly be telling the truth? She wanted to believe him, but wasn't so sure she could. She met his gaze with a small smile.

"We're very much alike, you and I," she said quietly. She was pleasantly surprised when he chuckled.

"I believe we are," he replied. She eased her grip on the sheets and let them fall a little.

"Our pride sometimes gets the better of us," she said boldly. His look turned fiery, but not angry. And then, very suddenly, she believed him. She knew that all he had said that afternoon had been lies intended to satiate a public who would have turned hostile had they thought the king took Ginger as anything more than a servant. It was all there in those dark eyes that were burning into hers.

"That it does," he said, his voice deep and growling. In a moment, he had moved down the bed so that he was mere inches away from her. Ginger's heart was racing; not five minutes ago, she had been hating this man. So why did she have the sudden urge to feel his lips on hers? Her breath caught in her throat as he suddenly reached out and brought his hand to the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. His touch was electrifying.

"Ginger," he murmured.

A loud knock came at the door, followed by the sound of footsteps entering the room. The king dropped his hand in an instant, and Ginger immediately hiked her sheets back up to her chin.

"Your majesty, I do apologize for the interruption," came a silky yet grating voice. Lord Agustino swept into the light, his watery eyes filled with mirth at the scene before him.

"Not at all, Agustino," the king said, his voice returning to its usual formality. He stood, causing Ginger to shiver at the sudden lack of warmth.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ginger, but I must steal the king away. Sire, we've just received some reports from Parfalia," Lord Agustino went on. The king nodded, and without even so much as glancing at Ginger, strode out of the room. She glared at Agustino as he smiled wickedly at her.

"Just a toy," he said softly before sliding back into the shadows.

It took Ginger a few moments to clear her head. Once her heart rate had returned to its normal rhythm, she sighed and fell back onto the pillows. It was possible, she reasoned with herself, that Agustino was right. The king could be toying with her, playing a game all his own, in which she was just a mere plaything. But there had been something there, something true, in his eyes, as he had reached out and touched her. They _were _terribly similar, and she knew exactly what he had been feeling: lonely and misunderstood.

As her eyes closed and she drifted off into sleep, however, there was only one question on her mind: now what?

----------------

When Ginger woke up the following morning and made her way out of the room, she found five guards stationed outside her door. She was told that the king had been called away on urgent business, and that the extra guard was there for her protection. When she asked why she needed to be protected, she was answered with silence. Her stomach settled into a state of anxiety; something was going on, and she had the sneaking suspicion that whatever business the king had been called away on, it had to do with her.

Ginger left her room around mid-morning, having been driven out by the constant sound of hammering and falling stone from the straw chamber. She made up her mind quickly; she was going to go see Lord Agustino, and see if she couldn't get him to tell her what the bloody hell was going on.

To her great annoyance, however, the guards jumped up when she left her room and followed her down several hallways until one of them finally asked her where she was going. She turned around, blushing a little, because in truth she had no idea where she was going.

"To see Lord Agustino. Am I going the right way?" she asked.

A few of the guards looked at each other uncomfortably. "Well, yes, Miss Ginger, but Lord Agustino is not in Ende. He accompanied the king on his business," one of them answered.

Ginger growled and stamped her foot. "So what am I supposed to do? Just wait around for them to return?"

"Well, your straw should be ready soon," one replied helpfully. Ginger threw up her hands and stormed past them. They trotted quickly behind her as she stomped back to her room. She slammed the door in their faces and then leaned against it, her hands furled into fists. It had all been a lie; the king had meant everything he had said yesterday! Otherwise he would have at least written a letter, a brief note, _anything_, explaining why he had left so suddenly and why there were five guards trailing her wherever she went! She felt like such a fool for believing him; how he must be laughing at her now.

She groaned and went to sit by the bay window. She wasn't so sure how long she could stay here if her emotions were going to swing so violently like this almost every day. She took several deep breaths and focused on the horses that were running freely outside on the lawn. _Freely…_ of course! How could she have not thought of it? The business wasn't about _her_, he just didn't want her running away while he was gone. She laughed out loud, amused by her arrogance. He would come back and the guards would be gone; that was a much more reasonable explanation.

Ginger then stood up and went to the door. She apologized to the guards for her earlier behavior, and then beckoned them to follow her to the library.

The king did not return the next day, or the following day, or the day after that. But as one of the guards predicted, Ginger's straw room was ready within three days; it now looked positively enormous, considering it was now double the size of her bedchamber. The guards told her that the king had said she could have three nights to finish it all – no negotiation. She had quickly asked if they knew where he was, but yet again they suddenly seemed to have no tongues. A few minutes later, one guard asked her if he could possibly watch her as she spun, but she took her cue from them and remained silent.

Night quickly loomed, and her guards – whom by now she had become rather friendly with – gently reminded her that she needed to be back in her room. She waved them goodbye, and then heard the familiar click of the lock as the door closed behind her. At first she heard nothing from the straw room, and as she changed into her night shift, her palms started to sweat. What if her little man did not return this time? What if he didn't know she was in trouble again?

She went to the vanity and took down her hair and spent several minutes brushing it straight. She then carefully took off her mother's locket and put it safely in the jewelry box. In its place, she clasped a silver strand around her neck, from which hung a perfectly-cut, gleaming red ruby. In order to ward off the man's suspicion, she also slipped on a matching ruby ring on her right hand.

Ginger sat in the spindly chair, forcing herself to stay awake. Midnight slipped past, and yet still, she heard nothing from the room. She stood and started to pace, trying to work off her anxious tension and trying not to think of what would happen to her if he never showed up.

Finally, at half past twelve, she heard it: the soft whirring of the spinning wheel. She jumped and hurried to the door. Flinging it open, she found the candles lit and the wheel spinning, a pile of gold thread already on the floor.

"Hello?" she said softly. From out behind a mountain of straw slunk her little man, looking much the same as he had before. He stopped within three feet of her and bowed low.

"It is a pleasure to see thee again," he said, his voice curling around her like a ring of smoke.

"And you… I admit, I was afraid you might not come," she said quietly. He held his hat in his hands as he bowed his head.

"I do apologize, madam… I was delayed," he said.

She furrowed her brow, wanting to ask what had delayed him, but deciding against it.

"Well, there is much more straw this time… what can I give you for your troubles?" she asked, bringing her right hand to rest on her left elbow.

Once again, he swept his eyes up and down her frame; for a moment, she saw a gleam in his eyes that seemed to suggest he was going to ask for something besides her jewelry. But then he bowed and spoke again in his low voice.

"Thy necklace and thy ring, madam, should suffice," he said, looking back up at her. Ginger didn't answer right away, for she was momentarily struck speechless; the little man was smiling at her, but it stretched wide and wickedly across his face, making his beady eyes glint viciously. But then he took a step forward and his face returned to its smooth, blank self.

"Ah… yes, of course," she stuttered, still put off. He bowed yet again and then slunk back into the shadows. It took Ginger a moment to collect her wits and turn around to leave the room.

Once back on her bed, Ginger sunk into the pillows, her heart still as anxious as it had been before her little man had appeared. There was something sinister about that creature that she hadn't noticed before. It was almost as if he was plotting something, something that would make her give up more than just some jewelry.

As Ginger fell asleep, however, she sternly reminded herself that she couldn't worry about him; she needed him much more than he needed her.

-------------------------------

The next day dawned dark and rainy. Ginger wandered into the straw room; several of the straw piles had been turned into gleaming gold once again. The sight did not thrill her as much as it once had, and she ate her breakfast by the bed in her robe. She didn't dress all morning; around noon, the guards at her door knocked to make sure she was alright. She assured them that she was still there, but that she hadn't slept much last night. They seemed to buy it, and when she finally emerged around one, they walked softly behind her and didn't speak. She made her way purposefully to the second floor foyer, outside of the ballroom where she had once attended court. She was dressed much simpler this time, in a long-sleeved, full-length gown, her hair pulled halfway back and resting on her shoulders.

Ginger wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she examined each painting and placard closely. All she wanted was to understand the king better, and what better way than to study his family? She came to a rest in front of the painting of King Alfred, the current king's father. He was a strong, almost brutal-looking man, but his eyes, unlike his son's, were warm and twinkling. He had a large, bushy mustache and a tall, sculpted body. Ginger gazed at him, trying to understand how Terrence had come to be the way he was. King Alfred had been kind and generous, whereas Terrence was calculating and avaricious. Next to the portrait of King Alfred was a small picture of the Parfalian king he had defeated in battle. The king had survived, but had been forced to give up a large amount of territory. Ginger narrowed her eyes as she stared at the picture; something wasn't right here. The people of Aurelia had been told that the Parfalian king had been subdued, and convinced to live in peace. From the looks of him, however, he did not seem like a man who would be happy about being subdued. Indeed, no Parfalian would take defeat easily. She wondered…

A loud sneeze from one of the guards disrupted her reverie. She straightened and hastily moved on, only to find herself at the end of the line of portraits. She sighed but took one last look around; her visit had produced much more questions than answers.

Ginger spent the rest of the day quietly in her room, reading. She ate a small dinner and then waited; tonight, however, she did not have to wait long. By eight o'clock, she could hear the spinning wheel. She stood and made her way slowly to the door. Her hand paused hesitantly over the knob, wondering whether what she was about to do was a wise decision. Her anxiety eventually won out, and she pulled open the door and walked in.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" came the creature's voice; moments later, he appeared to her left. She started at his appearance, which was decidedly disheveled. His hair was unkempt, and he was wearing just brown slacks and a loose white shirt. She did not reply for several seconds.

"I apologize for my appearance," he said, noticing her shock. "I didst not think I would see thee tonight."

She nodded, understanding. "I'm sorry… I can leave if –"

"No, not at all," he interrupted, lifting his hand. "Please, come in."

She walked into the room a little further, and took a seat at the wheel. It really was just spinning by itself, the gold thread appearing in a pool on the floor. She studied it for a moment, trying to see where exactly the straw was turning into gold. To her frustration, she couldn't tell; the gold seemed to just materialize.

"Do ye have a question, my lady?" he asked. She turned to find him examining a nearby mound of straw.

"Oh… well… yes, actually," she stammered.

"I will try to answer."

She nodded, twisting her fingers together. "Forgive me, but I just want to know why you're here."

"To help thee," he replied simply. She sighed.

"Yes, but how did you know I needed help?" she responded quickly. "I mean, if the king finds out…"

"He will not," he said. "As for how did I know… I could sense it. The smell of desperation was wafting out of the castle, and I knew from whence it came."

She stared at him open-mouthed. "You could… _smell_ my desperation?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, Ginger."

This halted her. He had never said her name before. "You know my name."

"Yes, Ginger of Tivilla. I have watched thee for some time. Thou art a clever girl, Ginger. But I knew you wouldst not be able to get thyself out of this alone."

"You've watched me?" she said, recoiling slightly. The feeling of dread from the night before was returning.

"Yes… as an admirer. I watched thee trick the tax collector into taking not a quarter of what he had come for. I was impressed."

She stared at him, aghast. "I… I didn't realize you knew me," she said hoarsely.

"Yes, for some time now," he said. "I knew I could help thee, and here I am."

Something flickered in her mind. "Sir, I should tell you that the jewelry…"

"Is not thine?" he said, his eyes glittering. He was standing right in front of her now, gently caressing the wheel. "Yes, I know. It is the king's."

"Yes," Ginger replied softly.

"That is why I accept it," he went on, a bite in his voice. She arched her brow, and looked at him quizzically.

"So… you _are_ a… a magical person?" she asked carefully.

He bowed low yet again. "Yes, Ginger. My peoples prefer to live quietly, but any small way I can take from him like he took what was ours from us…" he looked away, walking over to a pile of straw close by. Ginger looked at him sadly, although a small part of her argued her that King Terrence had not forced the magical peoples into their forest, a king several generations ago had. But it wasn't as if he was doing anything about it, either.

She stood, feeling overcome by fatigue. Even in here, she could hear the rain battering the windows.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you," Ginger said. The little man turned and bowed his head.

"I hope I have made thee more comfortable," he said.

She nodded. "Yes, you have. Good night."

"Good night, Ginger."

She left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. She crept into bed and put out the light, leaving her thoughts for tomorrow.

--------------

Ginger woke the next day to find that the rain had not let up; indeed, she had to look at her clock just to make sure it was morning. The sky was ominously dark, and Ginger could barely see five feet out of the window. The maids scurried in with breakfast, and as usual did not stay to chat. A knot had been tied in Ginger's stomach overnight, and she found she couldn't eat her breakfast. If anything, the little man had made her even more uncomfortable than before. She had never truly stopped to think where he had come from before; she naturally assumed he was magical, a sorcerer of some sort, but she had never pondered why he had come _here_ to help _her._ And she felt like she still didn't know. He said he had watched her, seen her before she had ever come to the palace – how was that possible? The magical forest was leagues away from Cuira County, a very far distance to travel just to watch someone. There was something he wasn't telling her, but she realized she hardly wanted to know what that was.

Ginger felt very lonely that morning, even with her five guards trailing behind her as she wandered the castle. Her father was far away in Tivilla, and she had no true friends to speak of. In all honesty, the person she most wanted to speak with was the king, and heavens knew when he was returning. Despite her ever-changing emotions toward him, she felt a connection with him she had never felt with anyone before. She longed to tell him of the little man, to hear what he thought of the fact that he had been watching her for so long. Of course, it was completely impossible, but she longed for it anyway.

The palace was quiet, but a few courtiers were hanging around and gossiping amongst themselves. They stared at her as she wandered by, a young woman in a plain blue muslin dress surrounded by five soldiers. She finally came to a stop on a bench in the grand foyer, where groups of courtiers were huddled.

"I heard he's gone to Moriana, to fend off a ship of pirates that arrived there last week," a man was saying nearby. Ginger perked up and listened closely.

"Pirates? That's nonsense. The king has better things to do with his time," another man said.

"Pirates do still raid those port cities. It's a very real threat!"

"You live here in Ende, what do you know?" Laughter.

"He's not in Moriana, you fool," yet another man said. "He's in Parfalia, negotiating with the king."

"Negotiating for what?" the others asked excitedly.

"He's trying to calm them down. They want Gelda back," the man reported, naming a large county at the Parfalian-Aurelian border.

"Those fools. Gelda is guarded by thousands of men! They'll never get it back."

Suddenly there was a deafening sound as the doors to the hall were rattled open. Ginger felt a spray of wetness, as she was sitting by the door. Behind a billowing cape swept Lord Agustino, who seemed surprised by the number of people in the foyer. They all jumped at the sight of him and swarmed, firing questions a mile a minute. He answered no one as he tried to extricate himself from the throng; the only time he spoke was to say that the king was traveling behind him. He caught sight of Ginger as he said this, and something in his eyes made her worry. Because _he_ looked worried.

Agustino finally managed to free himself and stormed out of the hall. The courtiers immediately burst out into loud flurries of conversation, but Ginger didn't want to listen. She stood and walked out of the foyer, followed as usual by her guards. She went to the atrium, a huge glass-encased room that looked right out onto the stables. It was raining harder than ever, but through the thick sheet she saw a group of men riding toward the stables. She searched the group, but did not find the king, and her heart fell. Those must be the men who had gone with him, as his own protection, mustn't it? Where was he?

She stayed in the atrium for over an hour. The soldiers who had arrived earlier had long since gone inside, their heads bent. Ginger started to pace the length of the room as her guards sat against the wall, uneasily following her movements with their eyes. After what felt like an eternity, Ginger stopped pacing. This was ridiculous; she was worrying too much. Perhaps the king had come back already, even, and she hadn't seen him. She sighed and stopped pacing. She would just go back into her room and…

"Your majesty!" she suddenly screamed. She had just looked out the window only to the see the king riding slowly up to the stables, slumped over his horse. She tore out of the room, quickly followed by her guards. She was instantly drenched as she ran toward the king; as she neared, she found him sliding slowly off his horse, one arm clutched around his stomach. She put both arms around his shoulders as he fell off. She sunk to her knees as he fell onto her legs. In the distance, she heard a guard yell for a doctor, while another handed her his cloak. She draped it over the king, covering his ensanguined shirt and shielding his face so that he could catch his breath. After a minute or two, his eyes opened and caught sight of Ginger.

"Ginger…" he murmured. She bent down and wiped his wet hair off his face.

"You're going to be alright, they've called for the doctor," she said with a shaky smile. He looked so pale; his eyes seemed faded, somehow.

"Ginger…" he murmured again. She bent lower so that she could hear.

"I am going to protect you," he said.

"What?" she asked, but too soon she was being thrust aside by the doctor, who began yelling at the guards to get the king inside. She started following them, but at the doors to the medicine hall, the doctor turned and slammed the doors in her face. She stood still for a moment, staring at the door and dripping on the carpet. What could it mean?

She shivered and turned away, striding quickly back to her room. She was shivering violently by the time she was finally back in her room and turning on the bath. The events of the past few days were churning in her mind… for some reason, she felt as if there was a connection. But as she sunk into her hot bathwater, only one question loomed in her mind:

Protect her from what?

-------------------

A/N: Wow… it has literally been a year and two months since I updated this story. Honestly, it doesn't feel like it's been that long, but… wow.

Anyway, I'm hoping to update this a little more regularly from now on. I do love this story, and I have where it's going in my mind, so please review! The last time I updated I received only one review which, as pathetic as it sounds, made me not want to update. So please review and give me your thoughts. I'm a little rusty. Thanks!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen


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